Crash and Burn
by ArtemisXYZ
Summary: There's a new governor in town, determined to get to the bottom of the shady deals his predecessor was involved in. And he's brought reinforcements, a fresh pair of eyes and ears to help the Five-0 come to the bottom of the case...
1. Prologue

_Washington, D.C._

"...Navy SEAL is a dangerous calling. Very prone to accidents. I'd be careful, if I were you, agent Logan."

Reena Logan's eyes snapped open. Trembling, her skin clammy and cold, she stared into the darkness of her bedroom. There went her beauty sleep. She could never fall back asleep after having _the dream_. The words evoked too vivid a picture of a man body battered and torn, his face bathed in blood, his beautiful blue eyes lifelessly staring at her in accusation.

She'd prevented that from happening five years ago. At the cost of her heart and happiness.

She kicked off the covers and padded barefoot into her kitchen. If she couldn't go back to sleep, she'd work. That always helped to keep her from dwelling on the past.

Her laptop was open on her desk, the screen glowing in the dark, the processor whirring slightly as it gobbled up the stream of data from her favorite torrent downloading program. Reena smiled sheepishly at the thought of a government employee going pirate, but she needed her daily fix of ebooks and her budget couldn't sustain her reading habit. At least not at the rate she was going lately with her imposed leave of absence from work and all.

She sat at her desk, tapped the pad, and her laptop shone to life, demanding her password as she accessed her email. Her eyes zeroed immediately at the familiar address sending her an attachment.

As she opened the big file and scanned the first few pages, she smiled in anticipation. There was no chance she'd beat her reading record this year. At least not judging by the material she'd just been sent.

Her phone rang and there was a smile in her voice when she answered, "Hey, big bro."

"Hey yourself," the man on the other side of the line replied. "I saw you opened the message. Couldn't sleep?"

Reena chuckled. "I'd say the same goes for you."

"I bet a have a better reason than you. I'm a workaholic and I needed your input." Marc Hawthorne was silent for a moment, then he asked, "Nightmare?"

Reena shuddered. "You know me too well."

"That's what family's for, little sister. I'd ask more, but you'd just ignore me, so I'll take a different approach. You read the file?"

"Just perused it." She narrowed her eyes. "There appears to be bits missing."

"Nothing of importance," he shot back quickly. Too quickly. "So, what do you say?"

"Well, I would have to check my schedule..."

"You're sitting around your apartment, reading, Reen."

She clucked her tongue. "I was planning on going on this knitting seminar."

Marc laughed and she knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Okay, fine. I'm in."

"You'll get your ticket by courier tomorrow."

"You were that sure I'd take this assignment?"

"I knew you were getting stir-crazy. Besides, we both need a change of venue."

She nodded, though he couldn't see her. "I guess."

"And I can't wait to see you. I miss you, baby girl."

She felt a tear slide down her cheek. This man was the only family she had in the whole world. "I miss you, too, Muffin."

"And I'll finally see you in action."

She scoffed, but he continued. "I know I'm biased, but I heard only good things about you."

"See you in a few days."

"Layover in LA. Coffee's on me."

"You got it."

"Now, go read a good book."

She was still laughing when she heard the click as he disconnected the line. She'd never admit it, but she was literally itching to get back into action. And with the info in that file, this case would pack a heavy punch. She couldn't wait to get started.


	2. Chapter 1: Ke kakahiaka

_2727 Piikoi Street, Honolulu, O'ahu, Hawaii, two days later_

Dawn was creeping over the horizon as Lieutenant Catherine Rollins pulled her hair out of her shirt collar. She wasn't due back to base until afternoon, but there was nothing that got her quicker out of the house of the man she was sleeping with than said man whispering another woman's name in his sleep.

Behind her, Steve rolled over in bed with a slight moan. She stilled. Another shuffle and he settled once more.

Cath turned around to look at him. The sheet has pooled low on his stomach, leaving his muscled torso and delineated abdomen bare to her view. God, he was gorgeous. And sweet. And caring. And tender. And passionate. And too damn sexy for his own good.

And in love with someone else.

Because this wasn't the first time he's whispered another name instead of hers. It has happened before. A lot. He often called out to the mystery woman in his sleep. Tonight, though, was the first time he groaned it at climax.

Cath frowned. He's never used her name during sex. It was always endearments like 'baby', 'sweetheart', and such. And tonight, when he'd finally used an actual name, it hadn't been hers. She narrowed her eyes down at him. Maybe even the endearments weren't meant for her. He never actually looked at her when he was inside her, his eyes either closed or focused on a spot on the pillow beside her head.

She shuddered. God, what if she was right? What if he imagined making love to someone else whenever they were together? She didn't want to believe it, but...He _had_ whispered someone else's name when he'd come earlier.

His movement on the bed caught her attention. He reached his arm out in his sleep, his hand seeking something on the side of the bed she's recently vacated. When he came up empty, his face crumbled a little and a small, heartbreaking sigh escaped his lips. Followed by a name. Another woman's name murmured with such sorrow and bereavement, Cath felt her eyes fill with tears.

She wanted to comfort him. Hug him and tell him everything would be all right. Wake him up and ask him to tell her everything.

She shook her head. What the hell was she doing? Crying over a man who said the wrong name during sex. Who whispered the wrong name in his sleep. Even if she confronted him, he'd close up like a clam and she wouldn't get anything out of him.

So she did what was best. She turned on her heel and quietly closed the door behind her, saying a silent goodbye to the man she loved, who would never return her feelings.

.

When his alarm went off, Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett checked the time, then pushed the alarm clock away. He turned, fully intending to gather the warm, pliant body of Catherine "Cath" Rollins into his arms and wake them both up with a bout of hot and sweaty sex, but he came up empty. There was no one beside him and the linens were cold. His bed partner was long gone.

Steve sat up in bed, scrubbed his hands over his face, and peered around his bedroom. She wasn't there.

He left the bed, pulled on his boxers and went in search of her. "Cath?"

"She's gone," his sister Mary replied from the living room. "She left quite early, too. At the crack of dawn, I'd say."

"'Morning, Mare. What were you doing up at the crack of dawn?"

"Having a bout of envy."

He'd be damned if he blushed, so Steve simply flashed her a goofy grin. "Did we wake you?"

She scowled. "I couldn't even fall asleep." She stood from the couch, went into the kitchen, and poured him a cup of coffee. "So what did you do?"

He followed her, swallowed a mouthful of coffee, before looking at her questioningly. "Excuse me?"

"You must have done something to make her leave that early. From what I heard, you did everything right." She smirked. "So it must've been something after. What was it?"

He shrugged, baffled. Cath had told him she didn't need to be at the base until afternoon. "I have no idea."

Mary smiled. "I'm sure it wasn't anything a nice flower arrangement and a dinner invitation won't cure."

Her brother let out a noncommittal grunt and stared out the window.

She sighed. "So, what will you do on your day off without your girlfriend here?"

"It's not my day off."

"But you told—"

Steve turned, shook his head. "The acting governor arrives today. We're the protective detail."

Mary felt her muscles stiffened. Lately that happened every time someone mentioned the word 'governor'. They might have had a dysfunctional childhood, but they were still family. He was her brother and when he'd been accused of murdering the previous governor, ending up in jail, and almost shanked to death, she'd felt as if her world had ended. She never wanted to go through something like that again. She didn't want to lose her brother.

"I hope this one's better than his predecessor."

Steve smiled and dropped an arm around her shoulders. "You know how the world of politics works, all secrets and mysteries, but from what I heard Marcus Hawthorne might just be one of the few honest ones."

"Marcus Hawthorne?"

"Yeah. He's rather new in politics. And young. 34, third generation. Both his grandfather and father were senators."

Mary sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, my God."

"What is it, Mare?"

She shook his arm off. "Nothing. Nothing. I just...I just remembered I had plans to meet a friend in Waikiki."

And she took off, leaving her brother staring after her with a puzzled frown.


	3. Chapter 2: Nā nuhou

_Hawaii State Capitol, 415 S. Beretania Street, Honolulu, 10 a.m._

Reena followed the newly appointed acting governor of Hawaii into his office, murmuring appreciatively. "Well, you sure moved up, Governor Hawthorne."

Marc turned to her, smiled, and nodded toward the door. "Close that and drop the 'Governor Hawthorne'." He smirked at her clothing choice of the day. "The official spiel doesn't go with the ensemble, Leather Chick. And I don't think you've convinced anyone you're legit."

Reena shrugged, dropped into a chair in front of the big desk, and lifted her leather-clad legs, perched her booted feet on the surface. "I showed them the credentials, how I dress in my free time is no one's business but mine."

"It's not really your free time, is it? You're accompanying the new governor to his offices."

She glanced at the clock on the desk. "No, that should go down in about three hours. It's not my fault the governor decided to come in early."

Marc dropped into his chair and looked at her archly. "I don't like protocol." He looked at her feet, still perched on his desk. "Reen, feet."

"Yeah, mine. What of them."

"They should be on the floor."

"I was cramped in the chopper."

He chuckled. "No surprise, with all that leather."

"You did promise me a bike when we got here."

He nodded. "And I delivered. It was nice hearing it rumble behind the cab."

Reena made a shocked sound. "Woe to us, the new governor arrived at his office early and in a cab. What will the public think?"

"That he's a badass with an even more badass bodyguard."

"I don't know about the bodyguard spiel, but badass I like." She smiled. "I bet I can still take you."

Marc winked. "Well, yeah. You're short and slippery. I'm sure that could be considered cheating."

She stuck out her tongue. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm short. Blame Mother Nature for that."

His smile turned tender. "I love you, kiddo."

"I love you, too, Muffin."

Marc groaned. "Don't use that nickname. I beg you."

Reena grinned. "I won't if you drop the mushy stuff."

"I can't help it, I love you."

"And I love you, too, Muffin."

"Reen," he growled.

"Marc," she replied sweetly. "Shall we get down to business. I have places to be, things still to do before the sun sets."

"Fine."

"Good." She nodded. "Give me the missing info from the file."

His eyes narrowed. "I told you, it's not important."

"That's for me to decide."

He sighed. "Look, you're here, you're committed. There'll be plenty of time to provide additional info if, and I repeat _if_, you need it."

She didn't like the evasiveness, but she'd refrain from hacking into his computer. First, because it'd be dishonest, and second, because he'd know. "Fine, I'll let it go. For now." She wiggled a bit to get more comfortable, crossed her ankles on the desk. "So tell me about these Five-0s everybody's raving about."

.

.

_Five-0 Headquarters, 10.30 a.m._

Steve McGarrett looked up from a file when his partner Danny Williams stormed into his office.

"It boggles the mind."

Steve decided not to question what boggled Danny's mind, since his observation skills registered his partner was on a roll.

"The rich and powerful just do whatever they want, whenever they want, regardless of appointments or their safety."

Seeing Danny's rather expectant expression, Steve concluded it was time for him to pitch in. "Do you have a particular rich and powerful individual in mind or are you speaking of the rich and powerful in general?"

Danny huffed. "The new governor."

"What about him?"

"He strolled into his office half an hour ago."

"What?"

"See? It boggles the mind."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and assumed, what Danny called his 'aneurism face'. "Danny!"

Danny nodded. "Yeah. He came in early, on a private chopper, and just took a cab to the State Capitol."

"A cab."

"Yeah, you know, a means of public transport also known as a taxi." Danny smirked as Steve experienced another 'aneurism face'. "Anyway, he won't need our services this afternoon. At least not to provide a security detail to his office."

Chin Ho Kelly poked his head into Steve's office. "I just got off the phone with the governor's aide." When both men turned to him, he continued, "Our presence is requested at State Capitol immediately."

.

.

_Hawaii State Capitol, 10.45 a.m._

Her black helmet under her arm, Reena stormed out of the building. Teeth grinding, she mentally kicked herself while calling her brother a few choice names. 'Son of a bitch' and 'bastard' were at the forefront.

The son of a bitch had set her up. And the bastard had even had the gall of smiling sweetly to her, while telling her everything would turn out okay and that it was time she put the past to rest.

"This is entrapment," she seethed, while straddling her bike. And what a lovely bike it was. Another ploy of the demon inhabiting Marc's body to smooth her feathers. But she wouldn't allow for her feathers to be smoothed. She had reason to be pissed. And it was safely locked in the devil's spawn's wall-safe.

"A contract," she spat, plunking the helmet onto her head. "He had me sign a contract before telling me everything." She snapped the visor down and revved the bike. "And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Bastard!"

She revved the bike again, the roar of the 1340 cc, 16-valve engine and the vibrations of the big, black beast between her legs making her feel a little better, when she noticed a sleek, silver Camaro V-6 roll around the corner.

Salivating, she put her bike in gear, caressed the throttle, and roared away.

.

As Steve slowed at the curb, he saw a leather-clad figure expertly maneuver a black beast of a bike through the sparse traffic.

"Now that's something you don't see every day around here," Danny commented as he closed the passenger door.

"What would that be?" Chin asked from behind them.

Danny nodded toward the retreating motorcycle. "A biker in head-to-toe leather."

"Yeah, it's somewhere along a tie on a police officer," Steve remarked blandly.

Chin let out an appreciative whistle as the biker leaned into the curve and disappeared from their view. "You sure don't see a lot of 'Busas around here."

"What's a Busa?"

Kono looked at Danny as if he's grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. "Suzuki Hayabusa."

"Oh, you're talking about the bike." Danny shrugged. "Rich people toys."

Steve just smiled, while Chin still stared to where they've last seen the bike. "The latest model. You're right, rich people's toys. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on one, though. How about you, man?"

Steve absorbed the slap on the back and sighed. "I'm with you on that one. But now, children, let's go see what the new governor has to say.


	4. Chapter 3: Ka pu'iwa

_Wailana Coffee House, Waikiki, Honolulu, two months later_

"What did I do, Cath?"

Catherine Rollins looked at the man sitting across from her, sipping a coffee instead of his usual beer. But it _was_ just a little over ten a.m. A little early for a beer, even for a Navy boy.

"You didn't do anything, Steve." She looked down into her latte. "It's just...I think we should stop seeing each other."

Steve rubbed his face with his hands. It's taken him an eternity to get her to return his calls, to convince her to meet him, and now this? "Just like that? After three years." He shook his head. "No. There's something else. What is it, Cath?"

"It's nothing, really. We just grew apart. Want different things." She finished her coffee and stood. "It's been great while it lasted, but this is goodbye, Steve." She almost choked while holding back tears, but she pulled through. "I hope we can remain friends. If at any time you need help with your investigations, you just need to ask. You know that."

He remained seated, staring at her, uncomprehending. "Cath, wait. I really don't understand—"

"Who's Sabrina?"

Steve felt his heart stutter. "Excuse me?"

Catherine smiled sadly. "You should see your face, Steve."

"How do you know about Sabrina?" he whispered.

"You talk to her in your sleep. You said her name the last time we—" She cleared her throat. "You never told me about her..."

He shook his head, blinking.

"...but she must've been important." She wiped at her cheek. "I told you we wanted different things. I want you." Another sad smile. "And you still want her. Goodbye, Steve."

As she turned and lifted her hand to hail a cab, Steve finally shot up from his chair. "Cath, wait." He grabbed her arm, turned her toward him. "Listen. Yeah, she was important. She—" He looked away. Back to her. "God, she was...It's been five years, Cath. And it didn't end well. I had no idea I spoke in my sleep. I'm so sorry, Cath, but, please, give me another chance."

She was shaking her head, but he cupped her cheeks.

"I'll tell you about it, I will, but not today. You just sprang this on me—"

"Steve, I—"

His phone rang and he cursed. "Sorry, I'm on duty, I have to take this." He checked the caller ID. "Yeah, Chin."

"It's him again," Chin Ho reported. "Outside the Roth crime scene. Kono went on to try and block him, Danny and I are in pursuit, but this guy's fast."

"Don't lose him, Chin. Where are you?"

"Going west on Beretania."

"Okay, call the HPD for backup, block him."

"Will do, boss."

"I'm on my way." Steve pocketed his phone and looked at Catherine.

She nodded. "Go."

He made a quick decision. "Come with me."

"What?"

He took her arm, pulled her toward where he's parked his pick-up. "We've been trying to get this guy for a month, and I really need to be there, but then, we have to talk." He unlocked his truck and opened the passenger door for her. "And I don't trust you not to bolt, so I'm taking you with me."

"Steve, there's—"

"Please, Cath."

She sighed. "All right."

"Thank you."

As they were streaking toward downtown, she asked, "So what's this about?"

"For a few weeks now there's this guy on a bike that appears around our crime scenes. Sometimes he even follows us." He took a hard left onto Kalakaua Avenue. "We first spotted him in front of the State Capitol the day the governor arrived. And he's been hanging around there a bit too much lately. I don't know who this guy is, but his appearing at crime scenes and in front of the governor's offices that day, makes him a person of interest. We've been trying to get him before, but him being on a bike gives him an advantage. This is the first time he's making it rather easy. Usually he appears in traffic, making it even more difficult to follow."

His phone rang again and he put it on speaker. "Yeah, Danny."

"You won't believe this, Steve."

"Danny, spare me the commentary."

"This guy just stopped."

"What?"

"He's straddling his bike, pretty as you please, in front of the HQ."

"The HQ. _Our_ HQ?"

Danny sighed. "That's what I said. We have him surrounded, but I don't think that could stop him."

"He's there because he wants to be," Catherine interjected.

"Is that Catherine?" Danny asked. "You've brought your girlfriend to a car chase."

"It's not technically a car chase, Danny. The other guy's on a bike."

"Semantics. Would you just get here?"

Steve put both his hands on the wheel. "Be there in one."

.

.

_Five-0 Headquarters Building_

"What's you ETA?" Reena asked.

"I'll be there in five minutes," Marc's voice sounded from the earpiece fitted into her helmet. "I'm glad you've finally decided to show yourself."

"Yeah, I didn't really have a choice, did I?" Reena chuckled. "I got an executive order from my superior."

"I didn't know you could follow orders so well."

"Bite me, Marc." She glanced into her rearview mirror to see a dark blue pick-up truck stop at the curb behind her. "I have to go, the big boss has arrived. Get your ass here."

"Don't shoot anyone," was the last thing she heard, before she disconnected the call.

Steve McGarrett joined his partner Detective Williams, on her nine o'clock, while Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua pointed their guns at her from in front of her bike.

McGarret lifted his gun. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

She flashed a quick grin inside her helmet and slowly lifted her hands.

He wasn't done. "Get off the bike! Nice and slow."

Reena, her hands still level with her shoulders , slowly swung her right leg over the seat, and turned to face the two men.

Steve was expecting someone more robust to be riding the big bike, instead of a lithe, petite, nicely curved figure gracefully dismounting the black beast. "Danny," he murmured.

"I saw it," his partner murmured back. "Either that's a really small brother—"

"That's a woman," Catherine Rollins supplied from behind them.

Steve shot a glance behind his shoulder. "Catherine, get back to the car."

"Oh, relax, sailor. I don't see any guns."

The leather-clad figure cocked her head, still covered by the helmet, hands slightly twitching as if in question.

"Catherine," Steve growled.

"You were the one who dragged me along, Steve." Catherine huffed. "Now I'm here and I'm curious to see the owner of that gorgeous bike."

Steve sighed. "Fine, but stay back." He looked at his quarry. "You! Take off the helmet. Slowly."

The biker nodded, slowly lifted her hands, unsnapped the helmet, and unhurriedly lifted it off.

One moment Steve was looking at his own reflection in the tinted visor, and the next he was staring into gray eyes that haunted his dreams.

"Sabrina?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach those serious, watchful eyes. "Hello, Steve."


	5. Chapter 4: Ka ho'iho'i

Catherine Rollins looked at the woman in front of her. Besides being dressed head-to-toe in leather, she didn't look like much. She was slender, more on the short side, she couldn't have been more than 5'6'', with red-brown hair, cut in a becoming layered bob, that just barely brushed her shoulders, and large gray eyes. But at closer inspection, one could see the core of steel under the unpretentious, feminine frame. She could not have weighted more than 120 pounds, but it was all muscle. It must have been for her to be able to control the mean-looking bike behind her.

And if that wasn't convincing, all one had to do was look into her eyes. Those eyes told the true story. Old-soul, her grandma would say. They were serious, with a veil of sadness, as if she's seen all there was to be seen and humankind could not be redeemed no matter what. Sometimes Steve's eyes held that same look.

Then she noticed the woman looking at her, nodding slightly, as if she's been inspecting her and liked what she saw. Like Catherine had been put to the test and wasn't found lacking.

"Can I put my hands down, now?" Reena asked. "This helmet is getting really heavy."

Steve holstered his gun, but one nod was enough to convey the message to Danny, Kono and to keep the woman in their sights. "Sure."

Reena smirked at him. "You won't order them to stand down, Steve? Really? What can I do with the entire HPD pointing their guns at me?"

He was in her face in a blink. "Plenty, that's why I won't give you the opportunity. What are you doing here?"

"She's with me!"

Reena's smirk turned into a smile as she leaned to the side to see around Steve. "Hey, Marc. Perfect timing."

"It's the least I can do," Marc Hawthorne replied, stepping closer. "McGarrett, order your team to stand down. Now."

Steve slowly straightened, his back ramrod stiff. "You heard the governor, stand down," he growled.

"Thank you," Reena murmured and placed her helmet on the bike. "Now, why don't we take this inside?"

"We're not taking this anywhere," Steve hissed. "You didn't answer my question. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I answered it for her, McGarrett," Marcus Hawthorne replied. "She's with me."

Steve whirled on the governor. He didn't care who the guy was, or thought he was, he just wanted to hit something, and if Hawthorne wanted to give him a target, so be it. "She's been spotted around our crime scenes."

"Yes. She's been keeping an eye on your team." Hawthorne lifted a hand to prevent further objections. "Per my orders. I wanted to know what you were made of, and I wanted it from an independent observant. What's put in reports can get lost in translation."

"She's been spying?"

"Following orders," Reena interjected. "And _she_ is standing right here, so stop talking like I'm not around. And etiquette demands you look people in the eye when you talk to them."

Blue eyes clashed with gray. "I was talking to the governor, not you."

"That's obvious."

"Okay, Steven." Danny moved closer, looking left and right. "Why don't we heed the lady's advice and take this inside. This is turning into a show."

Hawthorne took matters into his own hands. "McGarrett, inside. You and your team. That's an order." He looked at the long-haired woman behind them. "Miss, I'll get someone to take you wherever you need."

"No," Steve said. "She's with me."

"Steve—" Catherine started.

"We still have to talk," he interrupted. "You're coming in with us. This shouldn't take long." And he took off, his long strides eating up the ground toward the HQ front door.

"That went well," Reena murmured as she and Marc took the rear of the small procession. She chuckled, when he looked at her with an expression that asked whether she was on glue. "Trust me, with him that went really well."

.

Inside, everyone was assembled around the conference table when they got in. Everyone but Steve, who was in his office, staring out the window, clenching the windowsill as if his life depended on it.

Marc decided not to wait for him for the preliminary introductions. "Reen, these are the Five-0s. Detective Danny Williams, Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly, Officer Kono Kalakaua, and you already know Steve McGarrett."

"The Great Broody One, yes."

Marc looked at the woman who's arrived with McGarrett. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

Before Catherine could answer, Sabrina pitched in. "Lieutenant Catherine Rollins, USN, Intelligence, currently stationed on the _USS Enterprise_."

"I'm impressed," Catherine said.

Steve yanked his office door open. "Don't be. That's what she does."

Reena looked at him, arched an eyebrow. "Oh, look who decided to join us." She looked at Marc. "She's also his girlfriend. Three years and counting if I'm not mistaken."

Steve ignored the veiled question. "You probably know what each and everyone of us had for breakfast this morning."

"And every morning for the last two months," she shot back.

"How about our dreams? Do you know about them, too?"

"No, but if you care to disclose, Lieutenant Commander, I'm sure we could get to the bottom of whatever is troubling you."

He flashed an insincere smile. "Right now, you are."

Reena placed her hand over her heart. "I'm crushed. Really."

Danny has had enough. "And how long have _you two _been married?"

Both shot him an instant-death-inducing glare.

"Shut up, Danno!"

He lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, just wanted to end the pointless debate there." He looked at Sabrina. "Ma'am, you obviously know everything about us, having tailed us for so long, and probably having done your homework thoroughly before finally deciding to meet us officially. But would you, please, be so kind as to tell us, who the hell you are."

"Where are my manners?" Reena shot a sideway glance at Steve. "You really do bring out the worst in me." She ignored Marc's snort, and unzipped her side pocket, pulled out her ID. "Special Agent Sabrina Logan, Homeland Security."

"What happened to NSA?" Steve asked.

"I decided to broaden my horizons."

"As the governor's personal lapdog."

"McGarrett, you're crossing the line," Hawthorne growled.

"Don't let him push you, Marc. That's what he does best."

"Marc, huh?" Steve crossed his arms. "You're on a first-name basis with the governor?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"Yeah, I got a problem with that. You've been spying on us, you're tight with him. God only knows what you've been telling him."

"Kids, kids!" Danny yelled, but they paid him no heed, completely forgetting they had an audience.

"Are you really accusing me of not being objective?" she asked in a low voice. "If you do, you don't know me at all."

"I obviously don't. You've proven it to me, haven't you?"

She narrowed her eyes, lowering her voice. "You really want to bring that one up? Here? Now?"

"No, I don't. Water under the bridge, I'm just making a point."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Why don't you enlighten me, then?" He laughed. "Right, I forgot. You don't do that."

"Hey!" Danny stepped between them. "Knock it off!"

After a few more seconds of glaring at each other, the pair finally stepped back and turned toward the conference table and their rather rapt audience.

Chin and Kono were staring at them open-mouthed, Catherine met Steve's eyes, her lips curving into a small, sad and knowing smile, while Marcus Hawthorne just grinned like a fool.

"Okay, then." Hawthorne clapped his hands together. "Introductions have been made, so we'll be going." He moved around the table, clasped Sabrina's arm. "Reen, shall we?"

She nodded and without a backward glance let herself be led out.

"Yeah, that went really well," they could hear the governor say to her, which was followed by her snapped, "Shut up!"


	6. Chapter 5: Mo'olelo 'ino?

After the departure of the governor and Special Agent Logan, utter silence descended on the Five-0 office.

"That was interesting," Danny murmured, sneaking a glance at his partner. "I'd say, very interesting, but I don't have all the data, yet."

"Shut up, Danno!" Steve snapped.

"Yes." Danny nodded. "I'm definitely leaning toward 'very interesting'."

Catherine checked her watch and excused herself.

"Catherine, wait!" Steve rushed after her, reaching her in the hallway. "Wait."

She turned, her eyes sad and accepting. "No, Steve. You said we'd talk, but there's not much to say, beside the obvious is there?"

"Cath—"

"I love you."

Steve opened his mouth, tried to find the words, but couldn't. He just couldn't.

She nodded. "See, you can't even say it back."

"Cath, I..."

Catherine placed her index finger on his lips. "I know you care about me, but you don't love me."

Which was a pity, because there was so much capacity for love inside him, not even he knew how much. She'd known from the very start that Steve McGarrett fell into that category of rare men only capable of truly loving one woman in their lifetime. At first she'd hoped she might be the one to fill that spot, but somewhere in the first year of their relationship realized that was an impossible dream. So she'd been prepared for a goodbye, she just didn't know it would hurt so bad.

"I won't say goodbye, because I promised I'd help if you ever needed it, so, please, next time you call, don't feel bad." She smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. "I really hope she deserves you."

With one last smile, she turned and walked toward the elevator.

.

.

_5525 Kalanianaole, Honolulu_

Night has fallen when Reena brought her bike to a stop in front of her rental, a single-level cottage-style house surrounded by a miniature rain-forest, its living room's sliding doors opening directly onto the beach.

It was probably childish, but she felt a little sliver of satisfaction, when the front door banged shut behind her. She was feeling a little bit combative after her earlier conversation with Marc at his new residence, and since there was no one around for her to beat the crap out, she had to get her satisfaction by banging doors.

She went into her kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and moved into her den. She barely glanced at the contents of the file on her desk. She didn't need to, she knew it by heart, every line of data, every picture...She massaged her nape, trying to come up with a plan for tomorrow. She would need to talk quickly and bring something to the table if she had any hope of fulfilling the governor's latest order.

Not that she took orders from the guy, she was just humoring him most of the time. For the rest, all her big brother had to do was give her _the look_ and she was putty in his hands. And the asshole knew it.

Just like he knew all the right words to persuade her to stay on the islands when she'd first found out who the leader of the Five-0 task force was.

It's been two months, but she was still reeling from what she saw as betrayal. How could he have done something like that to her? To lie to get her here, and lie some more to keep her here. And then he told her to trail the task force, to familiarize herself with the big case involving the dead governor, Steve's father, the Yakuza and a bunch of international terrorists, mostly all dead, and a crime-lord slash arms dealer, who was still very much alive...And now this last request.

On top of seeing Steve McGarrett for the first time in five years. Healthy, alive, vibrant with that energy so uniquely his, so damned sexy it should be illegal...And hating her guts. Not that she blamed him. The way things had ended between them, he was more than entitled to a fit of temper or two. Or a hundred. But to act like she was some kind of traitor, that just rankled. To act like he was still harboring some kind of hurt where their history was concerned, while he had his girlfriend in tow. That rankled even more.

Not that she was jealous. She wasn't jealous. Really, she wasn't. They were over. He's obviously moved on, and so had she. So what if she hadn't had a relationship in five years, so what if she kept comparing every possible boyfriend candidate to tall, dark, and sexy Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett...

Okay, she was jealous. But she was an adult and she had complete control over her emotions.

She wouldn't let her feelings for Steve prevent her from doing her job. She could be professional. She_ would_ be professional. She'd finish this, and none would be the wiser as to how she really felt.

None, that is, but her brother. However, she knew she could count on him for keeping mum.

Okay, she definitely needed to do something to distract herself. Because if she kept on like this, she'd never go to sleep, and if she did, the usual nightmare would most definitely strike.

So she peeled her leather second skin off, pulled on a ratty T-shirt and old jogging shorts, and moved into the basement, where she'd assembled a small gym.

She dropped on the mat in the middle of the basement, did her twenty minutes of yoga, then stood, plugged her phone into the speaker system, and when the first notes of Lifehouse's _Crash And Burn_ sounded, started kicking the hell out of the sandbag.

.

.

_Hilton Hawaiian Village_

"So, who's Sabrina?" Danny has finally finagled Steve out of his office, though his mood still needed improving. Now they were seated at the team's usual table, nursing their beers, completely ignoring the music and the fireworks.

When Steve didn't reply to the question, just stared, still brooding, into his beer glass, Danny elbowed him. "Did you hear me, Steven? Who's Sabrina?"

"It's a long story."

"Yeah, I deduced as much. Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Yeah, I deduced that, too." Danny looked around, took a drink of his beer. "So why don't you just give me the cliff notes, huh?"

His partner was silent, so Danny nudged him again. "Okay, I'll help. When did this long story start?"

Steve sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stared up at the dark sky. "Six years ago."

"And when did it end?"

"Ten months, two weeks and four days later."

Ouch. Danny knew a man only kept count when he was in love. "It ended badly?"

"Excellent detecting skills, Danno."

Danny huffed. "Drop the sarcasm, man. I understand. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." A beat of silence. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." After a few minutes, Danny picked up the conversation again, "So, what exactly happened?"

Steve looked away, at the crowd, back at Danny. "There was someone else."

Double ouch. "Did you ask her?"

Steve only nodded.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't deny it."

That was interesting. Not denying didn't necessarily mean confirming. From what he's seen earlier, Sabrina Logan wasn't someone who didn't deny things. She looked like someone who came up and said whatever needed to be said, no matter what.

"Did you confront the guy?"

Steve shook his head.

"Do you know who he was?"

Another shake. "No, but I think it might've been our new governor."

Triple ouch. "What makes you think that?"

"There were a few mentions of a Marc when we were together, but nothing specific."

"So what makes you think he might be the guy?"

"You were there. Didn't you see it?" Steve made a fist on his thigh. "First-name basis, the smiles, the touches...I don't know, it's just a feeling, but I can't shake it."

Danny nodded. "I understand. Your instincts are usually right."

Steve let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "And I thought she was the one."

Quadruple ouch. Danny has never before seen his partner so vulnerable. "I thought that about Rachel. And you know how that one ended."

"I actually left the SEALs for her."

"What?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, with my deployment, we couldn't spend much time together, so I decided to change careers. Naval Intelligence sounded just right. Desk job and all."

"And she still dumped you?"

"She doesn't know." Steve's eyes were serious. "And she will never know. You hear me, Danny?"

Danny nodded. "She won't hear it from me."

"She broke it off on the night I was planning on telling her."

"That sucks, man." After a beat, he asked, "Does Catherine know?"

Steve took a swig of his beer, nodded. "Apparently I talk in my sleep."

"You didn't tell her?"

"I didn't know."

"And?"

"It's over." Another small curving of lips. "She said she could never compete with a ghost, but seeing the ghost is still living..."

Danny chuckled. "I see. And how do you feel about that?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't, Danny. I hurt Cath, and I never wanted to."

"It would've happened sooner or later," Danny said softly. "You didn't love her. Not the way you were supposed to."

Steve was taken aback by his partner's insightful comment. Not that he'd ever say it, but he was right. And so was Catherine. He didn't care about her the way he should. He would miss her, of course, but there would be no emptiness inside him when he thought of her. An emptiness one felt when someone you loved took your heart with them when they left.

He sure knew the feeling.

"I guess this deal with Catherine is on a strictly need-to-know basis as well," Danny said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Yeah."

"So, what do we do?"

"Nothing." Steve sighed. "Sabrina probably won't show again. She'll go away as quickly as she appeared. It's what she does."

Danny could hear the hurt in his partner's voice. He could tell this thing between Steve and Sabrina was far from over, at least where his friend was concerned. There were still feelings there. Running deep.

"Okay, man, I hear you. Tomorrow, business as usual."


	7. Chapter 6: Aloha kāua

**AN:** I just read they're using the lip-reading angle on the show, too. Are they mind readers? ;)

* * *

><p>When Steve entered the Five-0 task force office the next morning, later than his usual, he was greeted by deathly silence, and from behind glass doors, his teammates' eyes following his every move. It didn't take him long to understand the reason why.<p>

Sabrina Logan sat in the chair in front of his desk, playing with a pen. She's left her dominatrix getup at home this morning, opting for form-fitting jeans and a plain, light-green T-shirt, her bangs restrained by sunglasses pushed at the top of her head.

"What are you doing here, Sabrina?" he asked, suddenly extremely tired.

She flinched as if she hasn't heard him, shot to her feet and turned. She looked uncomfortable, her expression conveying the message she'd rather be anywhere else but his office.

"I..." She huffed, rolled her eyes, squared her shoulders, and met his eyes. "I work here, it seems."

"Sabrina, I'm not in the mood."

"Neither am I, Steven," she snapped. "But it is what it is. Last night, my—the governor appointed me the new member of your little task force. I gave the 'I solemnly swear' speech." She pointed to the badge clipped to her waistband. "I have the badge. I'm waiting for paperwork to officially get my gun...You can call the governor and ask him."

He kept his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How long?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

She stuck her hands in her pockets. "He wants me to help you solve the case your father's been working on."

She could've dropped a grenade in his office and he would've been less surprised. His eyes snapped open. "What?"

Her lips curved, but her eyes remained focused. "He wants to get to the bottom of things. He wants to know how the previous governor was involved, why your family had been targeted...And he wants Wo Fat behind bars, if he can't fry him."

"And you're supposed to be a fresh pair of eyes." He smiled grimly. "Not to mention your contacts."

"Exactly."

Steve shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed everything. For all that he disliked the guy, he had to give the governor credit. Sabrina was one of the best when it came to solving puzzles. A great profiler, meticulous researcher...And she had contacts all over the world. Besides, she was as stubborn as they came. Once she started something, she'd leave no stone unturned. Pity, she couldn't bring that tenacity into her relationships.

Before he could really start to kick himself for venturing into _that_ particular minefield, she placed her hand lightly onto his arm.

"Steve," Reena said softly. "We should talk. Can we go somewhere?"

For a moment, when he just looked at her, she thought he'd tell her to take her talk and shove it, but then he nodded.

"Sure, there's someone you need to meet, anyway, if you're going to work here."

.

.

_Waikiki, Honolulu_

Sabrina stared at the Hawaiian giant in a bright blue T-shirt grin at her over the counter of his ice-cream stand.

"This is a new one, brah," he said to Steve. "Beautiful, too." He winked at her. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

She just blinked, taking in the expanse of him.

Steve grinned. "Kamekona, this is Sabrina. Sabrina, this is Kamekona, shaved ice stand owner, occasional informant, and constant pain in the ass."

"You wound me, brah," Kamekona said, the smile never leaving his face. Sabrina suspected the creases were permanently etched into his cheeks. "And don't forget my new shrimp business. Nice to meet you, Sabrina. Would you like a T-shirt?"

She looked at Steve, but he just shrugged, still grinning. "Small, please?"

The giant shook his head. "XL or bigger. My face doesn't fit otherwise."

She didn't need a tent at the moment. "I'll pass, thanks."

"Your loss, beautiful. What flavor?"

"Excuse me?"

"What flavor cone do you want?"

"Uhm, I don't really—"

"You'll offend him, if you don't get a cone," Steve murmured.

"Oh...Well, I'll have the strawberry, thanks."

"Mint for me, brah," Steve said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

She placed her hand onto his wrist. "The talk was my idea, I'm buying."

He looked at her. "What kind of gentlemen would that make me?" He took the cones from Kamekona, gave the strawberry one to Sabrina, and paid. "_Mahalo_, Kamekona."

"No problem." He wiggled his fingers at her. "Come back anytime, Sabrina."

They moved to an empty bench in the shade.

"What's with Shamu?" Sabrina asked.

Steve poked at his shaved ice, and looked back at the behemoth in question. "Kamekona? He's harmless, but a great source of information." He looked at the beach. "And if you ever escape from prison, he can hook you up with a small arsenal."

"That particular tidbit wasn't in the file."

He sighed before looking at her. "Of course, you read the file."

"After I ended up here." Sabrina stared at her strawberry ice. "I had no idea you'd be here, Steve. If I had I wouldn't have come. It's not like I kept tabs on you."

That shouldn't have hurt, but it did. "Of course not, why would you?"

And this was the perfect intro. "We haven't really parted on best of terms."

"That's putting it mildly."

She couldn't meet his eyes, not if she wanted to finish this conversation without giving away more than she needed to. "I know you don't want me here, Steve. Actually, you have all reasons to hate me, and I don't hold it against you. I know I hurt you." And she'd do it again, in a heartbeat, if it meant keeping him alive. "But it's been five years, can we put it behind us? I mean, you've obviously moved on. You're with Catherine now, it's not like I ruined you for any other woman," she finished with a small smile.

If she only knew, but Steve kept silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Maybe I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyway." She looked up at him, then back down at her already-melting cone. "Could we try to be...friends?"

"Friends?" he asked.

She nodded, finally meeting his eyes. "Yeah. I mean, we could accomplish so much more when we stop baiting and snapping at each other. And the team would accept me quicker if...if we're not constantly at each other's throats."

Steve looked at her in silence for a few moments, then made the choice. "Okay, friends it is."

Her shoulders relaxed and she shot him a dazzling smile, which, for the first time since he's seen her the previous day, actually reached her eyes.

"And, for the record, I never hated you."

Sabrina fell back on years of training to keep herself from bursting into tears. "Glad to hear that. Now." She leaned her elbows into the wooden table between them, her cone forgotten. "Tell me, what you got."

Steve told her everything, from the last conversation with his father over the phone while Victor Hesse held him hostage, to finding the evidence hidden in the tool box, the assault to his home, the slow return of the evidence, the murder of the governor, his suspicions about his father's possible involvement, and everything they knew about Wo Fat, mostly thanks to the young CIA analyst Jenna Kaye.

"Jenna Kaye? You got your intel from Jenna Kaye?"

Steve nodded.

"Six feet, long, curly red hair, fearless, a pro with the knife, a real-life Amazon."

"No, your height, short brown hair, completely clueless in the field. You must know another Jenna Kaye."

Reena shook her head. "There's only one Jenna Kaye at CIA, Steve. And she's been dead for five years." Her eyes were bleak. "She died saving my life."


	8. Chapter 7: Ke kumakaia

Danny, Kono and Chin were loitering aimlessly around the office, trying to look busy, as they waited for McGarrett and their newest recruit to get back from wherever they've gone to. The two cousins had speculated as to the nature of the relationship between the two, the reasons behind the snapping contest. They'd even tried to get Danny's input, but due to the revelations from the previous night and his promise to his partner that he wouldn't say anything, he kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Knock it off already, Steve."

Three heads turned toward the hallway and the approaching voices. It didn't sound as the two have worked things out yet.

"I'm just asking what you were doing that she needed to save your life, Reen."

Okay, maybe they _have_ worked things out.

"It's a long story."

"It always is."

"And it's classified."

"They always are where you're concerned," he replied as they rounded the corner.

"Exactly. So drop it." She strode into the office. "And show me the file on this Jenna Kaye."

"Kono." Steve nodded toward the comp desk. "Bring up the file on Kaye."

Kono tapped, swiped, and the CIA file, he'd requested before starting their association with Jenna Kaye, appeared on the middle one of the three screens.

Sabrina scanned the data, nodded. "The data fits, though the bio is pretty off. There's quite a bit missing." She narrowed her eyes at the last entry in the profile. "And this is wrong."

"I told you," Steve said, "maybe there's more than one Jenna Kaye at the Agency."

She sighed. "Steve."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Sabrina."

"Why don't you have your aneurism face on?" Danny asked. "When I take that tone you always have your aneurism face on."

Sabrina turned to the blond man. "Aneurism face?"

"Yeah, his forehead gets all screwy and he glares."

"Oh, _that_ face."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Great, take his side."

She looked at him innocently. "This isn't about taking sides, Commander. I just implied I'm familiar with that facial expression of yours."

With Kono and Chin snickering in the sidelines, Steve rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. "Could we please get back to the file?"

"That appears to be Jenna Kaye's file, but, as I told you, a lot's missing."

He crossed his arms again. "All I'm saying is that you can be mistaken. God forbid," he finished with a mock shocked expression.

"Funny. Can I see her picture?"

"Sure," Kono replied and, another swipe later, brought up the analyst's picture.

"Son of a bitch," Sabrina whispered. "That's the person who helped you track down Wo Fat?"

"Yeah." Steve went to her. "What is it?" he asked in a low voice.

"You've been played," she replied and watched his jaw flex.

"She's not Jenna Kaye," Steve murmured.

Sabrina shook her head.

"And she's not CIA."

Another shake of her head.

"Then who is she?" Danny asked as he and Chin joined them at the comp table.

Sabrina looked at Steve. "Full immunity?"

He nodded. "And means."

"Good, I'm gonna need every single one of them." She looked down at the computer, closed her eyes, and cracked her knuckles. "Here goes nothing," she said and looked up at Steve with a mischievous expression. "You might want to turn away."

He just grinned and leaned his hip against the comp table. "Shock me."

She shrugged one shoulder and set to work. One after another a series of password-encrypted pages appeared, some with known logos, some with not so known logos and acronyms. From the corner of her eye, she saw Steve tense as she typed password after password, accessing deeper and deeper levels of confidentiality. She even thought she heard him curse softly once.

"You don't really have all these passwords, do you?" Chin asked from the other side of the table.

"I told you you might want to look away," she remarked, her eyes never leaving the data screens. Then, she finally accessed the internal database 'vault', and, protecting the access point as well as the destination of the transmission, she brought up string after string of data—files and photos started to appear on the three screens in the room.

Confidential files, surveillance details, phone-records, along with crime scene photos of charred remains of cars, buildings, and people, mutilated bodies, autopsy photos...She covered it all by a picture of a petite woman with long, dark hair, obviously taken by a surveillance camera. The photo might have been grainy, but the subject was unmistakable. It was the woman the Five-0 knew as Jenna Kaye.

"Jelena Ilyinichna Zagorinskaya," Sabrina said. "Ex-SVR. That's Russian Foreign Intelligence Service," she explained. "Father, Ilya Zagorinsky, former head of the First Chief Directorate in the KGB, deceased. Mother, Ekaterina Nikolajevna Chernyovskaya, former GRU, also deceased."

She moved to the head of the comp table, the screens behind her, and looked at the Five-0 team. "Ten years ago they presumably found her remains in her home in Moscow. Two more bodies were found in the remains, her father and mother. Bomb attack. Which became her favorite MO throughout the years. The SVR kept it on the down low, pride mostly, but it soon became common knowledge Zagorinskaya faked her own death and went into the private sector. The parents were confirmed deaths."

Sabrina placed her hands onto the table and leaned forward. "She has ties to both the Russian Mafia and the Japanese Yakuza, acting mostly as gun for hire, though she does some espionage work on the side, if the pay is good enough." She straightened. "More than a hundred confirmed hits under her belt, she's vicious, cold-blooded, and thorough." She met their eyes individually. Chin. Kono. Danny. And Steve. "I wouldn't be talking to you now, if she'd been sent here to kill you."

Steve rubbed his chin. "Her ties to the Yakuza would explain her presence here. She wanted to lead us away from Wo Fat."

"But why help us get close to him?" Danny asked.

Steve shrugged. "He wanted me implicated in the governor's murder."

"Then why would he order Hesse to kill you, if, according to her..." Danny pointed at Sabrina. "...he didn't really want you dead."

"That's not what I said," she interrupted. "I said _she_ wasn't here to kill you." She accessed the last photo in the file. "And her ties to the Yakuza weren't the reason why she was here." She accessed one last photo, brought it up on the middle screen. "She's Wo Fat's lover."


	9. Chapter 8: Nā kahamaha

Tomb-like silence descended on the office after Sabrina dropped her bombshell. Everybody stared at the top photo on the screen. It showed Wo Fat and 'Jenna Kaye' in an embrace, it was snapped right before a kiss, with Wo Fat cupping the woman's face in his hands, leaning down, their lips parted, their gazes locked.

As if feeling his inner turmoil, Sabrina turned to Steve, her eyes understanding. "You could not have known." _Don't beat yourself up for it_, her eyes communicated, _think of the next step_.

Thankful for her grounding presence, he flashed her a small smile as understanding shot between them. She was the only one in this room who really understood, having been in his position in the past. One small decision could mean the difference between life and death. He's thought that having left his military career behind, he was free of the beware-who-you-trust issues, but this latest betrayal's proved him wrong.

"Steve," she murmured. "Don't."

The ringing of his phone broke the little interlude. He answered, listened, disconnected, looked at his team. "We have another murder."

A new case always took precedence.

"Another?" Kono asked.

Steve nodded grimly. "A bookstore owner in Manoa."

An awkward moment past, when they all looked at Sabrina. She was part of their team now, but she had no partner, and...She wasn't _really_ part of their team. At least not yet.

Sabrina hooked her thumbs in her pockets. "You go ahead. I have to see a man about a gun, anyway. And about this," she said, tapping on the computer so the Zagorinskaya data disappeared, "I'll make a few calls."

.

.

_Crescent Moon bookstore, Manoa, O'ahu_

The lock on the back door to the bookstore was broken, the cash register in the small office was open, little drawers from the antique wooden desk lay in disarray under it, their contents spilled on the polished wooden floor. Nothing else had been touched; nothing else appeared to be out of place. The front store was in pristine order, the books nicely tucked onto their shelves, the little throw pillows neatly placed onto small armchairs positioned cozily around the shop. The fake fire crackled in the fireplace in the small sitting area, the poker from the fireplace lay on the hardwood floor, stained with blood.

The CSU team was already on site, taking measurements, dusting for fingerprints, snapping pictures of the woman's body lying on the snowy-white rug in front of her fireplace, her eyes staring sightlessly up to the ceiling, the side of her head caked with dried blood. The blood that had gushed from her wound has created a crimson halo-like stain on the rug.

Kono and Chin were shedding their black latex gloves, when Danny and Steve arrived, having had to stop at Steve's house for his truck, since Mary was due back from L.A. in the afternoon.

"What you got?" Steve asked when they met in the back office.

"The victim is Ema Liwai," Kono started, "63, widowed, sole owner of the bookstore, lived in Manoa her whole life. Cause of death appears to be blunt-force-trauma to the head, before 9 a.m. when she usually opened the shop."

"Who found her?" Steve asked.

"Son, Keanu Liwai, 42, only living relative. He's waiting outside."

Danny looked around at the contents of the desk, the open cash register. "Looks like robbery."

"It does," Chin replied. "But a nice lady who lives down the street, and plays poker with Ms. Liwai and the other grannies around here, told me Ms. Liwai always emptied the register and took the cash to the bank before their weekly game. Which is on Wednesday."

"Today's Thursday," Kono put in.

"And Ms. Liwai cleaned up her friends at the poker table last night," Chin finished. "Which means the money is safely at the bank."

"And anybody casing the place would've known her weekly schedule," Danny finished.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to make this look like a robbery gone bad." He met Danny's eyes, the corner of his lips curving. "Let's go talk to the distraught son."

.

.

_HPD Headquarters, Honolulu, two hours later_

Sabrina held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she pushed the door open. "Okay, Peters," she said to her contact at Langley. "Send me anything you can get, and keep looking."

"Will do," Edward Peters replied. "Take care, Reen and don't be stranger."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You always call only when you need something," he said, his deep voice laced with a smile.

"Ed, you wound me," Sabrina replied. "But you know me too well. Say 'hi' to the wife."

"I will. Be safe."

"You too."

As soon as she disconnected the call, her phone rang again. She straddled her bike and smiled down at her phone screen, pressed the 'Accept' button.

"What can I do for you, governor?"

"Did you qualify?"

Sabrina scoffed. "Of course I did." She grinned, feeling the familiar weight of the gun at her waist. "I told everybody this was only a formality, but no one believed me."

"I did."

She laughed. "Yes, but you're biased."

"True," Marc agreed. "Listen, how about celebrating?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Lunch."

"I could eat."

.

.

Half an hour later she was munching on her second kebab sitting on the shaded bench she'd shared with Steve that morning.

"So what do you think?"

Marc watched another bite disappear into her mouth. "That I've never seen a woman eat so much."

She shrugged. "I'm a growing young lady, I need sustenance. Don't change the subject."

He inclined his head. "Fine. I agree with you, it's all highly suspect. You stay on it."

"I plan to."

"You don't think—"

When he suddenly stopped, she looked at him. "What?"

Marc shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Marc, tell me?"

"Could this be connected to your last case with NSA?"

The food suddenly lost its taste and Sabrina fought to swallow the mouthful. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, Reen. It's just a hunch." Marc rubbed his eyes. "What Peters told you...I don't know, it might be connected. Wo Fat never registered on your radar, but what if he was involved?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, I knew all the players." Her eyes turned bleak. "And they were dealt with."

He leaned over the table, took her hand. "For a time there, you suspected an inside job, someone else's involvement could be pretty easy to hide." He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. "Especially afterward, when you didn't bother to look at it closely."

"God, Marc. If you're right...It would mean...He was _this_ close to him."

Her eyes swam with unshed tears and he clasped her hand harder. "And nothing happened," he reminded her.

"What does he want?"

"Whatever it is, you can use it to draw him into a trap. But first, make sure you have all the facts." He smiled. "You're good at that."

She nodded, smiled back, opened her mouth to thank him, when his eyes widened.

"Mary?"

Sabrina turned and her gaze collided with Steve's. His eyes were hard, angry sparks snapping in the blue depths. She mentally sighed. What now?

"Hello, Marc," the woman beside Steve said.

Sabrina finally looked at Steve's companion. She could not have been any taller than her, with long, blond, wavy hair, brown eyes, and pouty lips. There was something familiar in those brown eyes, sparks of anger, and just a hint of sadness. The expression was similar to...Her brothers?

She stood, wiped her hand on her jeans, and offered it. "Sabrina Logan."

After a moment's hesitation, the other woman grasped her fingers, gave a quick shake, and let go. "Mary McGarrett."

So she was right. "Nice to meet you."

"Whatever," Mary mumbled, shot a slight glare at Marc, looked away.

Sabrina glanced back at her brother and almost laughed at his expression. Part hurt, part resignation, a whole lot of longing. She might have laughed if she didn't suspect she probably wore a similar expression whenever she looked at Steve.

There was definitely history there. And her brother didn't share. How remiss of him. "You know each other?"

"Yes, we do," Marc answered with a look that didn't invite further questions.

Sabrina fought a grin. "How come?"

"It's a long story."

This time she did grin. "I'm sure it is." Then she looked back at the McGarrett family. "Come, sit with us," she invited, her smile disappearing at the look in Steve's eyes.

The anger in his eyes now mixed with speculation, and if the glare he pierced Marc with was any indication, his thought process mirrored hers.

It was Mary who replied, "No, thank you. I just flew in from L.A. I just wanted to say 'hi' to Kamekona."

"Okay, then," Sabrina said. "It was nice meeting you."

Mary left without another word, while Steve shot Sabrina another look, strangely filled with accusation, before following his sister.

"What was that all about?" Marc asked.

"You never know with Steve," Sabrina answered with a shrug. "One step forward, two steps back. You'd think he was born with that scowl." She smiled at Danny's 'aneurism' metaphor.

Then she turned to her brother. "It's my turn now. What was _that_ all about? And forget the cliff notes, I want the whole damn novel."


	10. Chapter 9: Ka mihi ko ke kaikuahine

_McGarrett home_

Her toes buried into the sand, Mary sat on the beach, listening to the soft lull of the waves. She was leaning back on her hands, staring up into the star-sprinkled sky, the warm breeze gently kissing her exposed skin. She's escaped the stifling silence of the house, unable to take her brother's questioning looks anymore. He didn't ask, he just waited, like their father had used to do, for her to spill her beans.

If she had her way, he'd wait a little longer. But when he offered her a beer bottle over her left shoulder, she knew her time has run out.

Steve dropped down onto the sand beside his sister and took a swallow out of his bottle. "You had time to get your story straight, Mare," he said. "Let's hear it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she evaded.

"Mary Ann McGarrett," he chided. "You're talking to your brother."

"That doesn't make you an expert, Steve."

He took the hit easily, registering barely a hint of guilt. She was right. He barely knew his own sister, thanks to their father and his protective measures, but that didn't mean he couldn't read her like an open book.

"True. But you forget I'm very good at my job. So, spill."

"You offer me beer and then tell me to spill it?"

He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. "Mary," he said softly. "Talk to me."

He might be a good investigator, but she's inherited some kind of police gene from their father as well. And there had been definite animosity running from her brother toward Marc earlier. And it hadn't been on her behalf. "Only if you answer a few questions after we're done. Truthfully."

He thought a bit, decided to take the risk. "Deal."

Mary sighed, went back to watching the water. "Do you remember when I got here the first time? When I told you about this boyfriend I'd broken up with? His name was Marcus Hawthorne."

She waited for Steve to speak, but he was silent, letting her set her own pace. On one hand, she was grateful, on the other she just wanted to get it over with.

"We've been seeing each other for almost seven months, when he suddenly got evasive. Saying he had to work late, that he had no time for a lunch break or dinner..." Her fingers clenched into a fist as she remembered the night she'd had enough and followed him.

"After a week I couldn't take it anymore, so I followed him. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, except he didn't work late as he'd told me." She lifted the bottle to her lips, but didn't drink. "He stopped at a supermarket before heading straight home. I waited for a while, but then decided to go ring the bell and ask him why he lied...when a cab stopped in front of his house and a woman ran to the door. I saw him open it, and he smiled."

Her voice shook and she was thankful for her brother's one-armed hug. "Steve, he smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. And I knew I could never compete with something like that."

She was silent for so long, Steve finally had to ask. "What did you do?"

"Went straight home, and booked a flight for Hawaii."

"You never confronted him?"

Mary shook her head. "What would be the point?"

"Closure?"

"Believe me, I got my closure when I saw him pull her inside his house."

.

.

_Sabrina Logan's rental house_

"So you just let it go?"

Marc nursed his scotch. "What was I supposed to do?"

Sabrina looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. She actually suspected he had. "Oh, I don't know, seek her out? Demand an explanation?"

"Is that what you wish happened with you?"

She shook her index finger at him. "Don't start your reverse-psychology crap, we're talking about you right now."

He sighed. "Fine. I tried seeking her out, but I learned she bailed to Hawaii. I tried calling her to demand an explanation, she blocked my number. I tried e-mail, everything came back as undelivered."

"So you gave up."

His mouth twisted. "It was pretty obvious she didn't want to have anything to do with me."

She met his eyes, smiled mirthlessly. "For what it's worth, we still have each other."

He lifted his glass. "I'll drink to that."

.

.

_McGarrett home_

"Do you know her?"

"What difference would that make?"

"They say it's easier when you don't know them." What a load of bullshit that was, Steve mused. Not knowing the person your lover cheated on you with didn't make it any easier. Betrayal was betrayal. It always hurt.

Mary shrugged. "I know her now."

A cold fist squeezed around his heart. "What do you mean?"

"I met her today. Sabrina Logan."

No, it wasn't easier. Especially when, after five years, one learnt they had been right all along. "Sabrina?"

The bleak tone of her brother's voice shook her out of her misery. And the looks from earlier started making terrible sense.

"What is she to you?"

"I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her."


	11. Chapter 10: Ka ua kakahiaka

Walking along the beach at first light was always a wonderful experience. The tourists were still hidden in their ACd hotel rooms, sleeping off their hangovers, making love, resting before a new eventful day...The locals were either still home or off to work, the surfers yet waiting for the report to tell them if they should even bother to venture out on their boards...So this morning he had the beach all to himself with only seagulls to keep him company.

The swishing sound of the surf licking the sand cleared his head, the soft breeze caressing his cheeks relaxed him, the soft sunlight spilling over the surface of the sea, helped center him, helped him think.

It's been a rough night of long-overdue talks as he and his sister finally got reacquainted. Secrets were revealed, emotions exposed, hurts drowned in alcohol. Well, at least he'd tried to get drunk, while Mary had succeeded. And since he couldn't sleep off his nonexistent hangover, Steve had been driven to the beach. To think.

About Mary. About a few points she'd driven home last night. Points about Sabrina, the governor, her, him and his apparent inability to move on...

"_It's over, Steve,"_ Mary had said. _"But not for you. You're not over it. You're not over her. She hangs over you like a cloud. You need closure if you ever want to have a normal relationship again. With Catherine or anyone else."_

His sister was right. He needed closure, he needed to put it all behind him, but it was difficult to do, to try and talk to Sabrina, when whenever he saw her he either wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless, or snarl at her for being there, bringing it all up to the surface again. And when he'd seen her with Hawthorne. God, it hurt. After five years, it still hurt, and he still didn't know for sure whether she'd left him because of Hawthorne or someone else...

"_You don't even know the real reason why she left you,"_ his sister had reminded him. _"You have your suspicions, but you don't know."_

And asking her for explanations was easier said than done. Because of what he still felt for her making him a little crazy, and because she wasn't talking. Sure they'd talked yesterday morning with her attempts at becoming friends—and didn't that chafe?—but she hadn't really offered any explanations, beside the usual 'it's complicated' spiel.

And he hadn't pushed. Not yesterday, not five years ago. He just took it and kept his silence.

"What an idiot," he whispered to himself. "What an idiot you are, Steve McGarrett."

"I'm no psychologist, but I don't think talking to yourself is a good sign."

Steve froze in his contemplation of the sea as goose bumps erupted on his skin at the sound of the voice behind him. He slowly turned and there she was. The subject of his musings. Sabrina Logan.

Reena cocked her head, waiting for the axe to fall. He'd looked so angry the previous afternoon, she knew their little talk from even earlier had been forgotten. She steeled herself—

"Good morning," he said and watched her blink in surprise. He was sure she'd been expecting a different reaction.

He'd probably react differently if it weren't for his sister's words still echoing in his ears.

"_She doesn't want to talk? Fine. Don't talk. Observe. You're good at that. Get close to her again, let her drop her guard...You're the master tactician of this family, Steve. Don't go on the offensive. Wait for it. Then, when she least expects it, you pounce."_

It sounded incredibly sappy, to wait for crumbs she was willing to throw him, to just be content to spend time with her. Machiavellian, to use her for her brain and contacts for help with his father's last case, then spring a trap on her so she'd finally tell him what had gone wrong between them...But he had to give Mary credit. She was right. Offensive didn't work with a fortress like Sabrina Logan, one needed to wait her out. As long as it took.

He took her in, from her breeze-tousled hair, to her black polo T-shirt, sand-colored cargo pants, black combat boots that have seen better times, and back up again. "What brings you to the beach at this hour?"

Reena looked at him a little longer, trying to discern his real mood, but there was nothing to indicate he was faking it. He was being civil. Friendly, just like she'd suggested yesterday. Who was she to object? She liked him better when he was in a good mood. The furrows between his brows disappeared, a sparkle appeared in his eyes, and that smile...It still made her weak at the knees.

She shrugged, going for a nonchalant tone, "I was early, no one was at the office, yet, so I decided to take a walk. Clear my head."

They've had the same idea. He too had arrived at the office when it was still dark, and instead of sitting around, raking his brain about the motive-filled, yet suspect-less, since the obvious ones had airtight alibis, two murder cases, he'd decided to take a walk down the beach.

"A lot on your mind?"

Reena looked out at the sea. "Something I've possibly missed in a previous case has been brought to my attention yesterday."

"Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not really."

"Fair enough." A movement of his head replaced the question whether she wanted to head back. When she nodded, he continued, "Anything new on the Wo Fat front?"

"I've put up some feelers, alerted a few friends."

They walked a few minutes in comfortable silence, side by side, just a couple on a morning stroll, before she picked up where she left off, "I got a call from Langley earlier, that's what got me to the office, Wo Fat and Zagorinskaya have disappeared."

"Meaning?"

"No one seems to know where they're holed up. The intelligence network is abuzz, yet no one's able to find them."

"Dead?"

Reena shook her head. "Highly improbable. A hit like that would reverberate. Instead, we have static."

Steve looked up at the sky. The sun was still making an effort, but gray clouds gathered quickly above them. "We might have to run for it."

She looked up and her eyes widened as her jaw dropped. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you told me about the sudden rain."

He grinned down at her. "Nope."

When the first fat drops fell, Steve threw his head back to feel the rain on his skin. When she shrieked as a drop splattered against her overheated skin, he laughed, grasped her hand, and pulled her after him in the downpour.

A few minutes later, when they rushed up the steps to the HQ, they were both soaked to the skin, laughing like crazy.

Up in the main office, Reena pulled her soaked T-shirt away from her skin, her teeth rattling. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare shirt, would you?"

"Come with me."

In his office, he pulled two white V-neck tees out of a drawer, giving her one. "Here you go. It's big—"

"Better than being wet, thanks."

He nodded. "There should be towels in the bathroom."

"I know where it is."

.

Five minutes later, dry and warm in Steve's T-shirt, a fresh towel in her hand, she had to stop in the hallway. Leaning against the doorjamb, she watched the muscles of his back flex under his skin as he pulled his wet shirt off and used it to pat his chest. Her eyes drank in his wide shoulders, the tats, as always, making her want to run her fingers over them, the wide expanse of his back tapering down to his trim waist...

He turned and she immediately schooled her features into a bland mask, pushed off the door, walked back to his office and offered him the towel.

"Here you go," she said. "I thought you might need it."

"Thanks." He smiled at the picture she made. With his T-shirt falling almost to her knees, the sleeves hitting her elbows, and her wet hair curling against her cheeks and neck, she looked cute beyond words. But with minor adjustments...Wearing nothing _but_ his shirt, for example, she'd instantly look the picture of just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy.

He remembered that look vividly. He also remembered, in full color and surround sound, what had used to happen before and after that particular outfit of hers. His favorite look on her. His heart picked up speed, his blood heated, and all kinds of things started happening below his belt. Luckily for him, she wasn't looking below his pectorals. And the look in her eyes made things even more lively. With regret and a small grin, he pulled the fresh T-shirt over his head, blocking her view.

Reena felt the blush on her cheeks as she realized she had been ogling. Again. Resisting licking her lips, she met his eyes. "I'll..."She had to clear her throat, before she could go on. "I'll need some space to work."

"Sure. You can set up here."

She frowned. "This is your office."

"We don't have an extra one and you can't work at the conference table. I know you need a semblance of peace." He shrugged. "You won't bother me, I'm rarely in here."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll just get my stuff." She motioned to the computer case beside a chair with her helmet on in the outer office. "Meanwhile, you can get the surveillance video your father taped in the governor's office. Maybe I can get some sound out of it."


	12. Chapter 11: 'ole ne'e

Steve was tapping on the comp table, trying to find a crack in his two prime suspects' airtight alibis, trying to find another possible motive for the two recent murders, anything to crack the two cases, and coming up empty. He suspected the lull in his investigating process had as much to do with the fact they had absolutely no other suspects or motive as it had to do with the puzzle currently sitting in his office, on his chair, at his desk, getting a feel for his father's last case, searching for Wo Fat, probably calling up every single contact she had in the entire world...

He still didn't know why she was really helping him. To make amends? Because Marcus Hawthorne ordered her to? Because she had nothing better to do?

Steve rolled a chair to the comp table, positioned it so he could see both the screens and her. Did it really matter why she was helping him?

Yes, it did. It shouldn't, but it did. And he had better things to think about than what went on in that beautiful head of hers.

He concentrated on the data on the screens, trying to see some semblance of a pattern, but it just didn't make any sense.

Who would kill a housewife in Aina Haina? It hadn't been robbery, the house hadn't been broken into, indicating she had known her assailant. The prime suspect: her husband, Anthony Roth. There was no big life-insurance policy, but the guy did have a younger lover in the sidelines. Would he kill his wife if she didn't agree to a divorce. You bet. Pity, the guy had an airtight alibi. He'd been to diner with his mistress at the time of the murder and they had a restaurant-full of witnesses to corroborate his story.

Next order of business—who would kill an elderly bookshop owner in Manoa? They might have made it look like an interrupted robbery, but the ladies' poker buddies had confirmed the money had been deposited to the bank the night before the murder. It had been premeditated and the only motive he could find was money. A group of investors have been making offers to buy some of the buildings on that street and turn them into a shopping mall. Most of the struggling shop owners had caved and sold. Ms. Liwai had been the only one not wanting to sell. Despite the many heated arguments with her son.

Enter the prime suspect, Keanu Liwai. Who also happened to have an alibi. He'd been on the mainland at the time of the murder. His hotel had confirmed it, so had the video feed off their security cameras.

So what did Steve have after an hour of picking the two cases apart and putting them back together. Nothing. He's tried connecting the two suspects—their work had nothing in common, they lived in two different neighborhoods, they had nothing in common besides being murder suspects. They both commuted to work using their own cars—no public transportation, they didn't gamble, one had a mistress, the other was still single, they had vacationed in different resorts at different times...There was nothing that could tie them together.

So he'd taken the hired killer angle. There was nothing in their accounts to indicate a payoff for a hit.

He had absolutely nothing to show for all his work and unless there was a miraculous break in the two cases, they would remain unsolved. And he absolutely hated that idea.

A movement in his office drew his attention. Sabrina was up, rolling her neck. Then she lifted her arms over her head and stretched. Though not meant to be, the movement looked sensuous, sexy, inviting, and Steve simply leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the show.

Danny chose that moment to make his appearance. Fully expecting to be the first one in the office, he was early as usual, he was surprised to find his partner at the comp table, the two cases neatly outlined on the computer screens in front of him. He was about to start ribbing him about his early start, when he noticed his small, genuine smile, and followed his gaze to the largest office, where a lithe body performed stretches and bends no normal body should be forced into.

He winced as Sabrina Logan bent forward, placed her hands on the floor, while lifting her left leg, did a standing split, then lifted her right leg in an inverted split balancing solely on her hands, placed her left leg back on the floor in another standing split, and slowly, her back arched in a perfect gymnastic pose, returned to a standing position.

Grace would've loved it. His little monkey was going through a gymnastics craze, watching competition DVDs, clamoring to be enrolled in a gymnastics class. He had to introduce the two.

"I had no idea you had so much space in your office," he remarked, grinning as Steve flinched.

Steve turned to his partner, mentally kicking himself for not hearing him. His former CO would have a cow if he knew all it took to break his training was a sexy woman contorting her beautiful body.

He shrugged. "Anyone can move furniture."

"True," Danny agreed. "But not anyone can do such contortions and have all their limbs in place when they finish."

Steve just grinned, then turned to Sabrina as she emerged from his office. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "Zilch. Hey, Danny. It's all right if I call you, Danny, right?"

Danny blinked at the beautiful smile she flashed him. She looked completely different from the woman he met the first day, more at ease and relaxed. "Yeah, sure."

Reena smiled again. "Great. You can call me Reena, everyone else does."

"He doesn't," Danny said, looking at Steve.

She chuckled. "He's special." She rolled another chair closer, sat, and placed her forearms on the edge of the comp table. "Steve, the audio is damaged beyond retrieval. If you want, I can send it to a friend for confirmation."

He didn't have much to think about. Sure, his father was on that video, but they needed to know how John McGarrett was connected to Wo Fat and the previous governor apart from the investigation he was conducting on them. Besides, he knew he could count on Sabrina and her contacts for discretion.

"Go ahead."

"Okay." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and taped a string sequence. "Done."

"Are you wearing his shirt?"

They both looked at Danny whose detective skills have come online.

"Mine got wet."

"Ah." He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "And how did that happen?"

"It was raining."

"I see." He looked from her to Steve and back. "I also see you're both wearing identical shirts. Those he keeps in his drawer for emergencies."

Steve nodded. "This was an emergency."

"Right. You got wet, too?"

"Yeah."

"In the rain?"

"Yeah."

Danny nodded, thoughtful. "You both got wet in the rain before getting here?"

Steve sighed. "Danny, is this leading somewhere or are you just killing time?"

"Don't break my thought process, Steven."

"Don't hurt yourself, Danno. We met on the beach, got caught in the rain, ran here, and changed shirts."

"Danno?" Sabrina asked.

"Don't ask," Steve replied.

"Understood."

"No, you see, you don't understand," Danny snapped. "I told him the story once, in confidence, and he just goes and uses it whenever he pleases, disregarding every objection I make."

"I say it with love," Steve said innocently and was rewarded with Sabrina's laughter. He looked at his partner and smiled at his arrested expression. She was working her magic again.

Danny snapped out of his surprised state at yet another facet of Steve's one-that-got-away and returned to his newest investigation. He crouched, peered under the table, straightened, and nodded.

"Okay, so you met on the beach, got caught in the rain together, ran here, and changed into identical shirts."

"That's what I said."

"Did you also prearrange the rest of your wardrobe?"

When Sabrina and Steve just look at each other, he continued. "Cargo pants and boots."

Reena looked at him. "They're practical."

He nodded. "Sure. Let me ask you something. Were you wearing a polo shirt before you got wet."

"Yes," she replied cautiously.

"I see. Tell me, you qualify for the gun?"

She blinked at the change of subject. "Yes."

"You carrying?"

"Of course."

"What gun?"

"SIG P226 E2."

Danny glanced down at the gun in Steve holster, grinned. A perfect match. "I rest my case."


	13. Chapter 12: Ka lima kokua

Chin and Kono arrived later than usual, each bringing the bad news of not finding anything new, and found Steve and Danny finishing with presenting the two cases to Sabrina, who wanted to be useful to the team in some other way while they waited for her friend to come through with the video and her contacts to get in touch with any news on Wo Fat.

Steve sent a questioning look the cousins' way, but they just shook their heads. They had nothing new, the alibis were airtight, there was no possible connections between them...There were no other possible suspects, and unless they relegated both cases into random-murders section, they had an absolute zero.

"So that's pretty much it," Danny finished his briefing, looked at Chin and Kono, turned back to Sabrina, and added, "Yep, that's it."

She swiveled her chair to face the screens, her eyes scanning the data, the photos...

"_Strangers on a Train_," she said.

While Danny, Chin and Kono looked at her in incomprehension, Steve shook his head. "I thought of that. There's nothing that connects them. I checked their jobs, vacations, pass time, transportation, favorite hang-outs, friends, family, acquaintances, medical history, mechanics...Everything I could possibly think of. And I checked their alibis for the time of the other murder. Nothing."

"How about browsing history?"

"That too."

"Okay, so we're missing something."

"Well, _we_ checked everything possible." Danny indicated the four of them. "What do you think _we_'ve missed?"

"Hired kill?"

Kono shook her head. "There's nothing in their financials to indicate they've recently paid anyone a sum large enough to merit a kill."

Reena turned to the four. "What if it wasn't money?"

Danny perked up. "Meaning?"

She motioned to the screens. "This can't possibly be random. It's not a serial, the MO doesn't match. So why would someone just kill two women. Two totally unrelated women, from two different parts of town, from two different backgrounds, different ethnicity. You have your motive right there, you have your suspects, but you can't pin anything on them. Why? Because they didn't do it."

"Are you saying they're not guilty?" Chin asked.

"Oh no, they're guilty all right. They just weren't the one who wielded the poker or the gun. They paid someone else to do their dirty job, while they made sure their alibis would stick."

"I just told you their financials are clean," Kono argued.

"Yes, because they didn't pay with money, they paid in favors."

Steve placed his palms on the table, leaned forward, his eyes intent on Sabrina's profile. "What are you thinking, Reen?"

She turned to Danny, grinned. "See, he calls me Reen."

"Sabrina," Steve groaned.

"Focused on the case, boss," she replied sweetly, looked down and with a few quick taps brought up the employment records for both men.

"Anthony Roth, Hawaii Medical Center West. Keanu Liwai, Nene Software. Nothing important when you look at it on the surface, but what if I was looking for something specific, something these two men might get me, something I couldn't really get through legal channels?"

Kono, Chin, and Danny approached the table.

"I checked all that," Chin said. "Nothing popped up."

Reena smiled slightly. "Because you haven't been looking for specifics. Let's see, Roth is Chief Pharmacist for the hospital. Oversees the budget and pharmacy stock. Hm, that's interesting, he's recently signed for an order of morphine for the department of Oncology. Even more interesting is that the log shows a lesser amount received than it had been shipped from the mainland."

She pulled up both logs. "See?"

"How did he explain that one?" Danny asked.

"Apparently there's been a mix-up with the shipping logs on the other end. They've recorded a higher amount than it had really been shipped."

"Inside job."

"Exactly." She accessed Liwai's file. "And look at this. Liwai's company is a subsidiary of Firewall Inc."

"I heard of them," Chin said. "They make virus protection software."

"They're a development company for the CSS," Reena said.

"And how do you know that?" Danny asked.

"It's classified."

Danny looked at Steve. "You _are_ soul-mates," he whispered.

Steve ignored him. "Do you know what they're working on?"

"Nothing pops up, at least not in Liwai's firm, but he _is_ a computer genius. And..." She accessed a file. "...was quite popular in the hacking community when he was a minor."

No one commented on the fact that juvenile records were sealed.

"And trust me..." She looked at them triumphantly. "...those are skills you don't forget that easily."

Danny, Kono and Chin looked at her with a mixture of surprise, awe, and grudging respect, while Steve straightened and clapped Danny on the shoulder.

"You asked me what she did," he said. "This. And she's damned good at it."

Reena smiled. "Thanks. The only problem is, we don't have any proof. It's just a theory."

"Better than what we had," Chin put in.

"Do we get them both?" Kono asked.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "No, one will be enough."

"Which one?"

Reena lifted her hand. "Can I make a suggestion? Go with Roth, he's the easiest bet. Just a lackey in the company and completely whipped by the kid he's seeing. Once you get him, you can press Liwai, he won't talk otherwise." She nodded toward the screen. "Not with that record."

Steve checked his gun. "Let's go."

"Can I come?" Reena asked.

He smiled, nodded. "But first, do something about that shirt."

She picked up the hem of his shirt, knotted it at her waist, clipped on her badge, adjusted her holster, grabbed her helmet, and dashed after the rest of her new team.

.

It had been easy, Reena mused as she watched Steve and Danny gang up on Anthony Roth in the interrogation room. He had gone with them without much fuss, and had started talking as soon as he parked his butt on the chair in interrogation. He hadn't even asked for a lawyer.

Reena chuckled. Steve didn't even have to glower for the guy to sing like a canary. He'd told them everything about his wife's refusal to give him a divorce, Lola's—the girlfriend—demands he marry her, how he'd been approached by a couple of men one night at a bar, telling him they'd overheard his recanting his troubles to a friend earlier in the week and were willing to offer their help in exchange of a few favors...

He had no idea who they were, only that they'd looked like cops.

"Chin," she said, "how about the ballistics on the bullet?"

"Traced it to a gun that's been used in a murder a few years back. Open and shut case. The gun's been logged as evidence—"

"And then disappeared from the evidence locker," she ended for him.

"Yes."

"If the men that approached Roth looked like cops it's because they _were _cops." She played with the hem of the black polo shirt she's changed back into when they returned to HQ. "Can you access HPD personnel database?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Why don't we show our nice guest some pictures?"


	14. Chapter 13: Ki'i kama'aina

"Peter Weiss and Albert Reeves." Chin brought up both pictures on the screen. "Dismissed from the force for conduct unbecoming. Mostly police brutality and gardening."

"Gardening?" Reena queried.

"Planting evidence," Chin supplied. "They've been off the force for three years now."

"How long has the gun been missing from evidence?" Steve asked.

"A little more than three years," someone replied from behind them.

They turned to see a stocky, middle-aged man with a buzz cut and sharp, weary eyes.

"Vincent Fryer," he said.

"IA," Chin supplied.

Fryer nodded. "That's right. And I'm here to stop you from blowing an open IA investigation. You're through."

"They killed two women," Steve snarled.

"I'm sorry for their families, but I have bigger fish to fry," Fryer replied. "And you're standing in my way."

Steve made a move toward the older man and Reena quickly placed a hand on his arm. "Steve, don't," she whispered. "There are other channels."

Fryer's eyes narrowed on the young woman that hadn't appeared on his radar during his preliminary investigation of the Five-0 task force. "And who might you be?"

"Special Agent Sabrina Logan, Homeland Security." Reena smiled sweetly. "Governor's special liaison in the task force." Her smiled disappeared as she took two steps forward, placing herself between Fryer and the rest of her team.

"And if you think you can just waltz in here and shut us down, you have another thing coming. Not only does this task force have full immunity and means granted to them by the state and governor of Hawaii, but my ID here..." She pulled her DHS identification out of her back pocket. "...trumps yours anytime. Domestic terrorism beats the IA roaches any day of the week and twice on Sunday."

When Fryer opened his mouth to deliver a, what she believed would've been, fiery retort, she shook her index finger in his face. "Ah-ah-ah, _Captain_ Fryer, in case you've missed it, this isn't a debate. You don't get to give input unless it's something relevant to our case."

"On second thought..." She smiled slyly. "...go ahead, try and shut us down, I'll be more than happy to arrest you for obstruction of justice. I can already see the headlines. 'IA top watch-dog brought up on federal charges'. Because the media are funny that way. They hear the word 'fed' and start drooling. And imagine the front-page snapshot. A man of your age and stature led by the handcuffs by little, tiny me." She blinked coyly up at him. "Please, give me the satisfaction."

He sputtered, but after a few poisonous glares, Captain Vincent Fryer turned on his heel and left without another word.

Danny clapped, Kono and Chin joined him, while Steve, working his trademark pose with his arms crossed over his chest, looked at her with an emotion Reena was afraid to analyze too closely.

"Some things never change," he murmured with a soft smile.

"So now we just need their records," Kono said.

When four pair of eyes looked at her expectantly, Reena grinned. "Why not go through official channels on this one? I'll call the governor."

Was it her imagination, or did a dark cloud pass over Steve's expression. It was quick and he turned back to the screens, so she couldn't be sure. Maybe it had been a trick of light, she mused as she stepped into his office for some privacy as she rang her brother.

Steve stared unseeingly at the data in front of him, as he took a deep breath, counted to ten, then slowly released it. One mention of _him_ and he almost ruined everything he's accomplished today.

"The commissioner went home for the day," Reena announced, casting a surreptitious glance at Steve. He didn't look angry, so she must have been hallucinating. It was probably because of the sun and the heat. "We'll get the investigation file tomorrow."

"I hope that's not a problem, being Saturday and all." She looked at Danny. "Or do you have Grace this weekend?"

Danny blinked at the question. "No, I don't. How did you—Never mind, you know everything."

She grinned. "Not everything, but most of it. You made a beautiful baby girl, Detective."

"Thanks. I had help."

"So," she started again, "tomorrow?"

The others nodded.

"Sure."

"No problem."

"Okay."

"Great." She took a few minutes to gather her laptop, helmet, and leather jacket. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

The Five-0s looked at each other. It was Friday, usually the end of their work week, the night when they all unwound together over dinner and beers. They've made plans of going to dinner together, as they did every Friday, and it would've been rude not to invite the newest member of their team. Sure, Steve apart, they didn't know Sabrina that well, yet, but she's blended marvelously with them today, and she _has_ blown the case wide open. And what better way than to get to know someone than mingle in a social, non-work-related setting.

Three tiny nods later, Steve called after her, "Do you have plans for tonight?"

Reena turned. "Not really, why?"

"We're go grab some dinner. Want to join us?"

She's been accepted. "Sure." She lifted her computer bag. "Do you mind if I leave this in your car until later?"

"Go ahead."

She put on her jacket, and then followed them to the car park. "Lead the way."

.

.

_Hilton Hawaiian Village_

Steve and Danny found themselves at their regular table for the second time that week. Only this time they weren't alone and the conversation was much less somber. Kono and Chin competed who would tell the funniest story about one of Steve and Danny's already-famous arguments, Danny added his own stories about their car-versations and outrageous renditions of Steve's 'ninja powers' as he called them, while Steve just sat back, relaxed, digested his dinner, drank his beer, listened to music, and enjoyed the show of Sabrina Logan laughing her heart out beside him.

"And I'm not exaggerating," Danny finished the last little anecdote.

"Oh, I know you aren't," Reena agreed. "I believe every word, trust me."

Comfortable silence descended on their table as each remembered the real incident, now turned into an anecdote, with smiles and soft chuckles, while Reena wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes.

"You know," she said, her voice wistful. "It's great you guys are so tight. I've seen many task forces break under the strain of competition and rivalry. But you work as a unit, each contributing something to the team and your investigations. It was wonderful watching you work today." She turned to Steve. "Thanks for allowing me to be a part of your team for a little while."

He nodded, not wanting to break the charm of the evening by telling her he was just following the governor's orders. And he especially didn't want to dwell on that last 'little while' part.

"I'm just glad you fit right in," he said simply.

"You know me, I'm adaptable."

Kono, unable to hold on to her curiosity any longer, decided to use that as her intro. "So, how did you two meet?"

Her cousin kicked her lightly under the table and she knew she'd blown it. They might just as well call an end to the evening. Then Steve completely surprised them all by looking at Sabrina and saying, "Go ahead, you tell the story better than I do."

Reena blinked, her mind racing. What was he up to now? "It's a silly story."

The other three, intrigued, leaned forward in their chairs.

"Silly ones are the best," Danny retorted.

Steve nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead. I even promise not to correct you."

She rolled her eyes, took a breath, and began, "Okay, one night I'm in my office, having to work late, because I had a comp-videoconference with an intelligence agency deputy chief from the other side of the globe. Finally, the guy decides to log in, and we start our meeting, when there's a bout of static and we suddenly bump into another conversation."

"On a secure connection," Steve supplied.

"Yes, thank you. We were on a secure connection, so was the other party, and we suddenly listen to each other. And this was no business meeting. This guy..." She pointed at Steve, grinning like an idiot beside her. "...was having cyber-sex on a secure connection from Afghanistan."

"It wasn't cyber-sex," he defended. "We were just talking."

Reena scoffed. "She had her hand down her panties. If that isn't cyber-sex, I don't know what is. I'm sure she wasn't looking for her keys down there," she said dryly.

Steve threw his head back and roared with laughter. The other three soon joined him, leaving Reena looking at them as if they've gone crazy.

"Trust me, I wasn't in the mood for laughter that day. Especially not after more static that finally cleared the connections, only to leave me staring at this guy's surprised mug and my work-date into some bimbo's crotch."

They laughed harder, and she finally cracked a smile. "Turned out to be a good thing. He never trusted network connections from that day on, always flying to meetings personally."

"Then what happened?" Kono asked.

"When the connection broke?" Reena shrugged. "This idiot wouldn't let me off-line. We started talking and—"

"The rest is history," Steve finished for her, one look telling Kono the inquisition was over. The subject would not be touched again.

"What he said," Reena added and felt the phone in her pocket vibrate. The caller ID showed a private number. "Logan." She grinned. "Hey, Keagan. Hold on a sec." She excused herself and walked off for some privacy.

"Cyber-sex?"

Steve grinned. "If you don't know what that is, look it up, Danny?"

"Ha-ha. You're killing me."

"Not yet. Give me time, though."

They all laughed and as Danny contemplated the incredible changes in Steve's demeanor ever since Sabrina has shown up—he apparently couldn't stop smiling and he's even started developing a sense of humor, Sabrina returned.

"Sorry about that." She looked at Steve. "That was the friend I sent the video to. He also confirmed the audio could not be saved."

"But?"

"But, his wife might be able to help. She's a mean lip-reader. We won't get anything on Jameson's part, since she was turned, but your father and Wo Fat shouldn't be a problem."

He could kiss her. "Thanks, Reen."

"Don't mention it." She clapped her hands. "Okay, guys, the next round's on me.


	15. Chapter 14: Kokoke

**Author's Note:** I'm finally done with this story. Officially, it has 48 chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue. And for those craving longer chapters, the last one is the longest (almost 3k words). And it was also the toughest to write, until I found the right 'soundtrack'. But I'm finally done. Whew.

* * *

><p>Sabrina was late.<p>

Kono, Chin and Danny were talking strategy at how to pressure Keanu Liwai in telling them whether he's also contracted Weiss and Reeves to kill his mother—and what favor he promised them, while Steve kept vigil on the door to the main office, waiting for Sabrina to show up.

She hasn't called, she hasn't texted, she hasn't e-mailed, and it wasn't like her to be late without giving notice. Sure, people change, but she couldn't have changed so much in the past five years. He started contemplating whether to call the hospital or the morgue first, when she marched into the office.

There was no other expression that would fit, but march. There was a militant gleam in her eyes, her shoulders were tense, her chin was defiantly up...And she marched.

"Sorry, I'm late. Got held up on the phone."

She didn't offer anything more than that, so the phone wasn't about the two cases she was working with them.

Reena went into Steve's office, poked around her computer to gain some semblance of control after the news she's just received. Her old colleague at NSA had come through with some disturbing news as to the 'mission that changed my life', as she so lovingly—notice the sarcasm—called it. It appeared Marc had been right in theorizing that some things might have been buried in the aftermath. Wo Fat _had_ been a player in that LCM a.k.a. life-changing mission five years ago. But someone had gone to great lengths to hide his involvement. Before and after. But who?

She didn't have to ask why. Money and power. It was always about that. So her newest investigation within the already open one would be to determine whether LCM and governor Jameson had anything in common. Beside Wo Fat.

But now was not the time to dwell on it. She'd had plenty of time afterward. She put her computer to password-protected sleep and joined the others in the main office.

"What do we have?" she asked, avoiding Steve's eyes. If he was good at something, it was at asking questions she had no intention of answering.

"Peter Weiss and Albert Reeves are part of an, according to IA, criminal society made solely of ex-cops," Chin supplied.

"Dirty cops, I presume," she responded.

"Bingo. They all work for Frank Delano."

Kono sucked in a breath. "I heard about him."

"Who hasn't?" Danny said. "They don't make them as dirty as Delano."

Chin accessed the HPD database. "Ethics violation, excessive use of force, police brutality, extortion, planting of evidence, illegal appropriation of evidence...You name it, he's done it."

"And now he's running his own little ex-cop club," Danny finished.

"Hundred percent referral," Chin continued. "You don't find them. If you need something done, they find you."

"Are they in drug trade?" Reena asked.

"Yes."

"Anthony Roth and a difference in shipping logs. Morphine that has so conveniently fallen off the back of a truck." Reena drummed her fingers on the comp table. "They're either selling it pure or making heroine. I'd go with pure morphine, because acetyl chloride or acetic anhydride are rather tough to come by if you don't happen to live on the Golden Crescent or the Golden Triangle. And obtaining it would've raised a lot of flags." She bit her lower lip, thought. "Still, I'll call a buddy at DEA. If they don't already know about it, that is."

"Is there an agency where you don't have a buddy, friend, or colleague?" Danny asked.

"No." She drummed her fingers some more. "Onto Liwai. Though his company is a subsidiary of Firewall, Inc. they're not really involved in any classified programs."

"You checked that with another buddy?"

Reena ignored Danny's question. "Chin, is the HPD planning any raids in the near future?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Yes. With Hesse dead there's been quite a lot of activity between gun-dealers. Power-plays, scrabbling to get on top. HPD's planning to use that to its advantage."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

She nodded. "Okay, could you tell them to tag the ammo with tracking devices?"

"Why?"

"Because that's probably Liwai's form of payment. Hacking into HPD database to gather information on upcoming raids. After it's done, Delano and his cronies simply waltz in, grab the booty, and waltz back out." She smiled coldly. "If you can't find them, you follow them."

He looked at her for a few minutes, then pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Oh, and Chin, tell them to keep it off the record."

"Are you sure about this?" Danny asked.

"What else is there that he could do for them beside hacking? But, to be on the safe side, we could always ask him."

"Just yesterday you said he's used to being interrogated and he won't talk."

She nodded toward Steve. "That's where he comes in."

.

.

_Five-0 Headquarters, Saturday night_

It had all gone as clockwork. Steve had gotten a confession out of Keanu Liwai with apparent ease. He had simply used his ninja powers of persuasion, as Danny had later said. The combination of his icy glare, the bulging biceps brought to attention by his signature pose, and the twenty-seven-minute-long silent treatment in the barren interrogation room, and Liwai had cracked.

He'd been more than happy to tell them everything, when Danny had come to the rescue in his 'good cop' role. About his mother's refusal to sell her bookstore and get the large sum he desperately needed to get his little company out of trouble, about the two men that had approached him in front of his home, offering their services in exchange for a favor in the form of obtaining certain intel from the HPD database, proving Sabrina's theory.

She's been feeling a little giddy ever since. She had exceeded her own expectations. And soon, she'd get some much needed action. Sure, kicking the sand bag around her basement was good for releasing tension, making the head go blank, but nothing beat real-live action, the chase, leading with her weapon...

She mentally berated herself, took a deep breath, and once more cleared her mind, finding her center.

"Is she meditating?" Danny asked.

Steve looked up from his disassembled gun, followed Danny's gaze to his office, where Sabrina sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed. "It appears she is."

"Sheesh, you sure found a match, didn't you?"

"Danny."

"What?"

"Don't."

"Right." He sighed, looked at the monitor where the GPS signal was showing the seized ammo was still where it was supposed to be. "What's taking these guys so long? I never considered stakeouts to be boring, but with Kono and Chin on a family reunion, you being all broody and her meditating..." He rolled his eyes. "I'm bored."

"Maybe you could play Ms. Pacman."

"I must say I like this new you better than Mr. Scowly."

"You play Ms. Pacman?"

Danny turned and grinned at Sabrina. "Sure."

"Ever got to the double pretzel level?"

He smirked down at Steve. "I have this strange feeling of déjà-vu." He turned back to Sabrina. "Triple Banana, girl."

After a beat, she said, "Liar."

Danny's jaw dropped open and Steve laughed.

"What?" She looked from one to the other. "What did I say?"

Before either of them could answer, the GPS tracker started beeping.

Steve reassembled his gun in under a minute, double checked it, then called in for back-up, while watching Sabrina check her own gun, stuff extra mags in her cargo pants, and stick a knife in her boot. He smiled. There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew how to be prepared.

"Ready?" he asked when Danny and Sabrina joined him at the comp table.

They nodded.

"Okay, let's go get them."


	16. Chapter 15: Hana 'ia

Steve braked the Camaro in an alley in Chinatown, stepped out, and took three bullet-proof vests out of the trunk. He gave one to Danny, put one on himself, and offered the third to Sabrina while indicating she could put her helmet into the trunk.

He watched from the corner of his eye as she secured her vest and adjusted her holster and gun.

"Okay," he said, checked his phone screen. "The GPS locator says this is the spot."

"The drycleaners?" Sabrina asked.

He nodded and motioned for their HPD backup to join them. "You..." He motioned to the three officers. "...go in front, we'll take the back. Tell the rest to take a wider perimeter and stay back unless I call for them."

"Yes, sir."

When the HPD officers moved to the front door, Steve took Danny and Sabrina around back.

"This is it," he whispered at the door. "Remember, these are trained cops. They _will _play dirty, let's not make mistakes."

The two nodded.

"You have your backup?"

Two more nods.

"Sabrina, your vest tight?"

"Yes."

"You two ready?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good." He pressed a finger to his ear. "We're a go. On my mark. Three, two, one."

One kick and the door gave. He lead with his gun, feeling his partner right behind him. As he checked room after room, nodding the 'all clear' to Danny and Sabrina, the world slowly receded, until nothing but the next room existed. He knew whatever happened, Danny had his back and he trusted his partner to keep Sabrina safe as well. Though she'd kick his ass if she knew what he was thinking.

"All clear," sounded in his earpiece.

They met the three officers in a room on the other side of the long shop. Only one door led into the room, there was no other exit.

"There's nothing here," one of the officer said.

Steve checked his phone again as Sabrina moved to the wall.

"We're on top of it," he said, watching the dot blink on the screen.

"Yeah?" the HPD officer asked. "I don't see anything."

"Because we're on _top_ of it," Reena hissed, running her fingers on the paneled wall. "There's something else behind this wall."

Steve was beside her in an instant. "Can you find the switch?"

"There should be a depression in the paneling."

He flattened his palm on the wall and felt it, pressed, and the paneling swung back, revealing a steel staircase, leading downward. He grinned at Sabrina, drew his flashlight, and led the way.

The staircase arched slightly inward, turning at an 180 degree angle, back under the drycleaners, the entrance in the basement blocked by a steel door. It stood ajar.

With one last warning glance, Steve pushed the door fully open. It gave way without a sound. One sole crate stood open in the middle of the spacious room, filled to the brim with weapons seized in the recent HPD raid.

"Where's the rest?" Danny whispered. There were supposed to be five more crates of weapons and ammo.

Steve signaled for him to be silent, listening intently. A sound was coming from the back. TV news.

Steve motioned for the three officers to stay and guard the door and for Danny and Sabrina to follow him.

The underground level was all open space, a combination of storage area, gaming room and meeting area with a large poker table serving as conference table. It looked like a dirty-cop lair out of some B-movie, complete with tacky, unmatching furniture. There were still cards, chips, glasses, and beer bottles on the poker table. The lighting was sparse, creating pockets of shadows along the walls. But for the faint sound of the TV from the back, the basement appeared deserted.

Steve, Danny and Sabrina moved toward the back in a tight, uniform formation, Steve checking the front, Danny and Sabrina guarding the sides, as if they've done it a million times before.

They arrived at a smaller door at the end of the basement. Still no movement, only the sound of TV.

"I don't like this," Danny whispered as he and Sabrina flanked Steve in front of the closed door. "It reeks of a setup."

Steve quelled his own misgivings, counted to three with his fingers, and kicked in the door.

The small room actually had a rather cozy feel. If you were a guy. A large leather couch stood in the center of it, smaller leather armchairs strewn around the room. Every single piece of furniture was turned toward the large plasma TV on the wall. The TV that was the only source of illumination.

One man sat on the couch, watching the news, smoke rising from his lit cigarette, curling toward the ceiling.

"What took you so long?" Albert Reeves asked without turning. "I almost fell asleep waiting for you to show up."

Danny and Steve circled the couch.

"Albert Reeves, you're under arrest for the murders of Miranda Roth and Ema Liwai. You have the right to remain silent..."

As Danny red him the Miranda, Reeves started laughing.

"Arrest? Me?" He shook Danny's hands off, stood and looked down the barrel of Steve's gun. "You think you can arrest me?"

Steve scowled, his hands completely steady. "You really want to add resistance to arrest to the list, Revees?"

Reeves grinned evilly. "Do you want to add another body to our count, pretty boy?"

Sabrina's quick intake of air from the doorway had Steve pivoting, only to stare in horror at the huge knife pressed against her throat.

"Drop the gun, gorgeous," Weiss hissed against her ear, then looked at Steve and Danny. "You too, assholes, if you don't want me to slice her neck."

Reena let her fingers go limp letting the gun clatter to the floor and watched as Steve and Danny lifted their guns, barrels pointed at the ceiling.

"Okay, okay," Steve soothed, feeling sweat pop up on his forehead. Six years in the SEALs, four years in Afghanistan with IEDs everywhere, mortar falling from the sky like confetti on New Year's Eve, never knowing whether he'd actually wake up in the morning, and he'd barely broken a sweat. Now, with that knife pressed to that soft throat, for the first time he experienced true, blood-chilling fear.

He knew she could take care of herself, she was trained to take care of herself, but knowing that didn't lessen the terror, his heart slamming against the wall of his chest. If the bastard hurt her, if Steve saw just one drop of blood well from that milky white skin on her neck, Weiss was a dead man.

"Just calm down, man," he said, trying to come up with a plan, any plan that didn't involve Sabrina getting hurt.

Weiss sneered. "That's what you get for taking a chick to do a man's job. Get their guns, Reeves, and call it in."

Danny made eye contact with his partner, but Steve, a look of fear, that would've been comical in other circumstances, on his face, shook his head. They wouldn't make any moves, not until that knife was pressed to Sabrina's neck.

Reeves took both their guns, patted them down, and found their backups as well. "Easy as pie," he snarled.

"Now let her go," Steve demanded.

"Ah-ah, not so fast," Weiss spat. "Not until our backup arrives. Then I'll let her go. Maybe." He sniffed her hair. "Or maybe I'll play with her a bit."

Danny felt goose bumps rise on his skin, but Steve didn't even flinch, keeping his eyes trained on the knife. And he sure had to give Sabrina credit. She just stood there, unmoving in Weiss's grip, her expression blank, her eyes empty. A knife was pressed to her throat and she barely blinked. These two certainly were cool customers.

"Del, come in," Reeves spoke into his two-way. He received only static in reply. "Del, this is Reeves, come in."

Only more static.

"Is the radio broken?" Weiss asked, a tremor in his voice.

"I checked it an hour ago," Revee answered, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

They were both thinking the same thing, only too afraid to actually say it. Frank Delano has probably written them off, leaving them to take the blame.

Steve finally lifted his eyes off the knife at Sabrina's throat and met her gaze. She blinked once, slowly and a corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.

"They're not coming, are they?" he taunted. "Your buddies left you here, while they hightailed it to God knows where. No honor among thieves this day."

"Shut up!" Weiss shrieked. "Just shut up!"

He emphasized the last word by pointing the knife toward Steve...And Reena exploded into action.

She thrust her elbow back into his solar plexus, grabbed his right wrist, and twisted. Something snapped and Weiss cried out in pain, dropping the knife. She snapped her head back, the back of her head connecting with his nose. Cartilage cracked, blood spurted, and Weiss croaked like a dying frog.

Reena dropped and delivered the coup the grace. A crouched roundhouse kick to the shins, while she grabbed her fallen gun. One heartbeat later, she stood over his pitifully writhing figure, pointing her gun down at him.

"What was it about the chick doing a man's work?"

At the same time Sabrina took down Weiss, Steve took care of Revees. The guy probably didn't even know what hit him. Steve snapped the cuffs on Reeve's wrists and looked at Danny. His partner was gaping like a fish toward where Reena was hauling Weiss to his feet.

"Everything okay, Danno?"

Danny looked at his partner, back at Sabrina, and at his partner again. He could barely believe what he's seen. One moment she'd had a knife at her throat, the next she had gone all ninja, broken both the guy's wrist and nose, and wasn't even breathing heavily. Not that he'd ever confess or anything, but he secretly admired Steve's training and ability to take down an opponent without much effort. But, call him a chauvinist, he never envisioned a woman, outside of movies, doing the same, as quickly and effortlessly as his partner.

Reena looked at them. "I'll wait for you outside." She pushed Weiss out of the room, and responded to his whining with a snapped, "Shut up, or I'll break the other one, too."

Danny cleared his throat, looked at Steve. "She's you. With breasts."


	17. Chapter 16: Pa'ina

_Waikiki beach, one week later_

Kamekona has graciously, after a few well-placed threats and even more well-placed bribes, agreed to close his shave-ice hop for the day and let Danny use it as party HQ for his daughter's birthday celebration.

While the owner of the establishment served as nothing more than a smiling ornament, doing nothing but occasionally directing people to where they could get more of his shaved ice, Danny served as entertainment, Kono as waitress, Chin as child-herder, and Steve as BBQ master.

"I wonder where Sabrina is," Danny commented as he stopped by the grill for a swallow of beer.

The Five-0s have officially taken their newest member into their fold, which meant birthday party invitations on days off and the likes.

"She'll be here," Steve replied. When, was another question. There was something bothering her, he knew, and he suspected it had a lot to do with his father's case, yet she kept mum. And after asking her a few times, always receiving the same non-answer, he's decided to drop the subject. For now. She couldn't keep her silence forever, and he knew, when she had something solid, and pertinent to the case, she'd come to him. He only hoped she'd give him the entire story.

"Hey, big guy!" Sabrina's voice drifted across the beach.

Danny and Steve turned just in time to see her balance a large, aluminum-foil-covered tray in her left hand, as she gave Kamekona a high-five with her right.

Danny whistled softly between his teeth. "Wow. When she loses the uniform, she _loses_ the uniform."

"Stop staring," Steve growled.

Danny grinned. There sure was plenty to stare at with Sabrina wearing just a white, tight-fitting tank top, cropped shorts, and black flip-flops. And judging by the look on Steve's face, his partner more than agreed.

"I will, if you stop drooling," he whispered conspiratorially. "Do you need a bib?"

That earned him a one-armed shove, that, though friendly, made him stagger back.

"Whoa there, Detective." Sabrina laughed as she came closer. "Is everything all right?"

"He got rid of the tie," Steve explained. "It's messing with his balance."

"I see." She took Steve's beer, took a swallow. "Ooh, I needed that. Thanks." She supported the tray she still carried with both hands and looked at Danny. "I didn't know what to get the birthday girl, so I went with the failsafe." She pushed the tray into Danny's hands and took off the foil.

The tray was filled with two layers of cute little cupcakes in different colors with matching sprinkles.

Danny's mouth watered. He loved cupcakes and Grace had certainly inherited his gene. "Where did you get these?" he asked. He planned of visiting the bakery that made such beauties regularly from now on.

"I made them." She slapped Steve's fingers away. "Don't touch. They're desert."

He grinned. "I'm hungry."

"Eat a burger."

"They're not ready yet."

She blinked innocently up at him. "What? Big, tough SEAL like you afraid of nibbling on raw meat."

He could tell her what he'd like to nibble on, but refrained, merely winked and turned back to tending the grill.

When Reena noticed Danny eying the cupcakes, she took the tray from him, put it on the nearby table and covered it again. "This tray is off limits. Trespassers will be subject to severe bodily harm." She glared at both of them. "Understood?"

Before they could object, a little voice intruded. "Uncle Steve, are the burgers ready yet?"

Reena arched her eyebrows. Uncle Steve? When did the big, tough SEAL turn into an 'uncle' softie? Then she looked down into the expectant face of a little girl with her daddy's eyes and instantly had her answer.

"Hi," she said, crouching. "You must be Grace. I've heard so much about you." Well, technically that wasn't true. She's read much about Grace Williams, not heard, but who cared about semantics. "I'm Sabrina."

The little girl smiled. "Daddy told me about you. But you don't look like Xena."

Danny chuckled, blushing as he looked at Sabrina. "I said you _fight_ like Xena."

"Thanks, I guess." She smiled at Grace. "And your daddy told me you like gymnastics?"

An exuberant nod.

"Maybe you can show me some moves. But first, happy birthday." She stood, uncovered her cupcake try and offered it to Grace. "Pick one."

As his daughter decided, Danny sent a hurt look toward Sabrina. "Why can she have one?"

"It's _her_ birthday." She could've sworn she heard him mumble that the world wasn't fair, but her phone chirped at the same time. It was a text message from her brother. And it wasn't good news.

"Sabrina!" Grace called her, a pink cupcake in her hand. "Come meet my friends!"

She slipped the phone back into her pocket and smiled. "I'm right behind you." When the girl ran to join her friends on the sand, Reena turned to the two men. "Weiss and Reeves are dead. Prison fight."

"Delano didn't want them to talk," Steve murmured.

"Exactly," she agreed. "Fryer isn't pleased, but that's hardly news. Roth and Liwai weren't as much of a liability. They're safely behind bars where they belong. " Grace called her again, and she smiled. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have friends to make. Don't touch those cupcakes! And Steve," she ran toward the group of girls, throwing the words over her shoulder, "try and make those burgers _before_ the next birthday."

.

.

The party was in full swing, with burgers, hot dogs, French fries, shaved ice, cupcakes, and soft drinks galore. Steve was showing kids how to fly a kite, Chin was giving them rides on his bike, Danny was juggling, Kono made balloon animals, and Sabrina taught those patient enough some easy yoga positions. Her new bestest friend in the world, Grace Williams, naturally wanted to see the standing slit positions her daddy, whom she inexplicably sometimes called Danno, but Reena didn't want to pry, had told her about.

She was rescued by the cake-bearers, in the form of a long-haired beauty and her square-jawed companion, which turned out to be Grace's mother and step-father, Rachel and Stan.

"Hello," the woman greeted with a pronounced British accent. "I'm Grace's mother, Rachel."

"Hi, Sabrina Logan."

"Oh." Rachel looked at her ex-husband. "She doesn't look like Xena."

"I said she _fights_ like Xena, and how would you know that?"

"Grace told me." She then, in true Brit fashion went into full-hostess mode, by introducing her husband, and cutting and passing around the cake.

Reena looked from Danny to Rachel and back. There were definitely undercurrents there. Unresolved issues, deeply buried feelings, and a truck-load of frustration. And a baby on the way, if the protective way Rachel Edwards occasionally touched her belly was any indication. And loads of frustration connected to the baby as well, since Danny kept giving the evil eye to his replacement and sending longing looks at Rachel's tummy.

Steve caught her gaze, shook his head slightly, and she nodded minutely. She wouldn't pry, but she wasn't blind.

"Anything?" he asked her when they were left at the fringe of the partying group.

She didn't have to be psychic to know what he was asking. "I heard from Keagan this morning. Irene, his wife, is almost done. She'll write it all down and send it to me. And I'll," she added, before he could fully open his mouth to speak, "forward it to you immediately."

"Thanks."

She rolled her eyes. "You have nothing to thank me for. It's the least I can do."

She left in search of the cake before he could ask her why, and before she succumbed to the urge to tell him.


	18. Chapter 17: Waena

_Sabrina Logan's rental house_

Reena place her digital reader on the sofa beside her, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth against the dull pain throbbing in her temples. It had started when she first opened the file Irene sent her, the video transcript. The audio has been too damaged, scrambled with who-knew-what software to make it unrecoverable, but Irene had worked her magic and Reena now had a meticulously detailed transcript on her reading device.

And a full-blown headache.

Because, as badly as the audio was damaged, someone had also poked around the video properties, erasing them completely. It was impossible to determine when the recording had been made, not even when it had been transferred to the SD card.

She scanned the transcript again. She would share this with Steve, of course. There was nothing incriminating in that conversation if one didn't know what to look for.

But she knew what to look for. And she also knew when the video had been recorded.

And she had the perfect weapon to bring Wo Fat out of hiding.

She checked the time. It was barely eight o'clock. Then again, _USS Enterprise_ was docked in Pearl Harbor for the second time in two weeks.

She bit down on her lower lip. Maybe they were still out, maybe having dinner. It was rather early. But maybe they were already holed up in his bedroom. Decisions, decisions, decisions. If she called and they were...busy, he would not be pleased, though interrupting them would please _her_ immensely. But then, if she didn't call and gave him the file tomorrow, he might take her head off for not sending it to him sooner.

Maybe she should simply send the file without calling. But then he might not know she's sent it.

"Oh, screw it," she muttered and pressed the call button.

The phone rang and rang, and she knew she should not have called. Then he answered, panting, and she wished to God she'd just sent the e-mail.

"What is it, Sabrina?" he asked after the prolonged silence during which she stared miserably through her window, wishing to be anywhere else on the planet but Hawaii.

She had to clear her throat to keep the tremor out of her voice, thankful he couldn't see her. How would she explain the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to tell you I received the file we talked about today. I'll forward it to you. Bye."

.

.

_McGarrett home_

Standing in his living room, the sweat drying on his skin, his breath slowly returning to normal, Steve listened to the dialing tone. He's never heard Sabrina speak so quickly...And it sounded like she was crying.

He debated whether to call her back and ask her if she was okay, but it had probably just been his imagination. It was probably just his subconscious feeding the urge to go see her. And now he sounded like a shrink. He kicked the front door closed behind him, toed off his trainers, and pulled off the sweaty T-shirt. There was nothing better to jump-start a man's appetite than a long jog down the beach.

He went to his father's study, clicked on his e-mail program and downloaded and printed the file Sabrina had sent him. Determined to share this with his sister, he called Mary, told her to stop for a pizza, and invite herself to dinner.

Then, later, maybe, he could ask for some more advice. Because this making friends wasn't working. Sabrina wasn't divulging any information. Yes, it's only been two weeks, but it could as well be two centuries. There was still a wall around her and it was obvious by her skittishness when they happened to be alone lately, that it wasn't coming down.

And it was getting damned hard to try to get closer while still keep his distance. Because he was sinking, and fast. At times he could actually forget what had happened between them—the hurt, the abandoning, the betrayal, the promises they never got to make—and found himself drowning in her eyes, wanting nothing more than to pull her close, kiss her, hold her and never let her go again.

Today, as he'd watched her with Grace and her friends, he'd wondered, not for the first time, whether they'd have had children by now had they stayed together. And then they had been momentarily alone, when the rest of the party had gone for cake, and he'd seen that wall of hers crack a little, before she'd practically run away and reality had intruded.

So if that make him a pussy, so be it. It also made him wary. Because as easily as he had fallen before, he could do it again. And if he was wrong, it would hurt as much as it had the first time.

.

.

_Sabrina Logan's rental house_

Sitting on the warm sand in front of her house, contemplating the starry sky, Reena thought about the phone call she's received a few minutes ago. Her old partner at the CSS, now head of the R&D department, had provided the last piece of the puzzle.

The man who had sold her out five years ago, the man who had sold out his country for profit, the man whose hands were covered with the blood of good men and women, had been their old boss, Carlton Vickers. He'd died in a car accident a few months after it had all gone to hell, but first he'd erased every single string of data bearing Wo Fat's name from the mission reports.

Elton Cook, her old partner, had gone to work when she called asking for a favor, using his newly acquired power inside the agency, to access sealed information, hack into private files within private files...Only to discover the car accident hadn't been an accident at all. Someone had set a bomb. In the peculiar style of Wo Fat tying up loose ends.

She sighed, dropped onto her back, and curled her hands under her head.

The agency had fallen under a different administration in the past few years, but there were still enough 'old regime' devotees on the employment list, to keep people wary of traps. Lucky for her, Cook had restructured the R&D department, pulling in people loyal to him, keeping the department intrigue- and power-play-free. Regular stress-tests, and employee check-ups made sure it stayed that way. Not that he was paranoid or anything.

And people loyal to Elton Cook were also friends and favorite ex-colleagues of her, loyal to the bone and beyond, making her feel better about keeping this investigation, and the entrapment plan, under wraps from those who might give her prey the heads-up.

She just needed to tweak the plan a little bit before the presentation.


	19. Chapter 18: 'Oia'i'o hapalua

**Author's Note:** Sorry, this chapter's incredible short, but I couldn't help it. I just couldn't squeeze anything else in...And Nancy, if I updated daily it would be over too soon. Where's the fun in that? ;)

* * *

><p>"He's gone to ground and the only way to get him out of hiding is to provide something he wants."<p>

The Five-0s stood around the comp table, staring at the screens, where Sabrina had compiled all the data relevant to the case. Though Steve only listened with one ear, distracted on one side by Sabrina and her detached, almost cold, behavior toward him this morning, and on the other by the revelations in the transcript of the video.

His father had actually been in league with governor Jameson and Wo Fat. According to the file, they had been planning on obtaining a classified prototype developed by CSS. Wo Fat had had connections in the agency, governor Jameson had had the expendable work-force in the form of dismissed cops still secretly on her private payroll, and his father...Steve had no idea where his father had figured into everything, but there was no denying the fact he had.

What he'd started by sending him and Mary away after their mother's murder, he had finished with this last betrayal. He had destroyed their family.

"And what do you plan on offering that he wants?" Danny asked, snapping Steve back into the present and the conversation around the comp table.

Reena nodded toward the files in front of each of them. "The prototype mentioned in the video."

"What is it?"

"A program for launching or disabling the missiles of whatever country its operator is in. It's linked to the geographical position and it can't be hacked."

Chin scoffed. "Impossible."

Reena flashed them a chilling smile. "You'd be surprised what unlimited funding can do."

"How do you know about it?"

"A friend of mine developed it a few years back for the DoD. But the news leaked and suddenly every terrorist cell worth its salt wanted it." She clenched her fists, had to cleared her throat before continuing. "Not to mention private corporations and governments that weren't exactly 'simpatico' with the US. There were attempts of bribery, but my friend couldn't be bought. All they had left was a weakness."

"And they found it."

Reena smiled sadly at Kono. "They always do."

"Family?" Danny asked.

She nodded. "My friend was willing to do anything to save a loved one, even if it meant handing over a lethal weapon."

"What was the catch?" Steve asked, surprising her.

"What makes you think there was one?"

He shrugged. "There's always a catch. I mean, if bribery didn't work just shows he wasn't in it for profit. And everyone in potentially dangerous professions have back-up plans for such situations."

Their gazes met. Held.

_Even SEALs?_ her eyes questioned.

_Yes, I had a back-up plan if something happened to you_, his responded.

Reena looked away, her heart thudding in her chest. "The catch was that only my friend could work the program. No one, but a few close colleagues knew that. So when the program changed hands, my friend and a small task force followed it across the globe, wiping out the key players in the ploy, retrieved the program, and destroyed it."

It sounded easy, but it had taken months. And three amazing people had died.

"So how do you plan on catching Wo Fat's attention, if the program's destroyed?" Danny asked.

"He doesn't know that. Only one other person outside this room knows the truth."

"Your friend."

Reena went on as if Kono hadn't spoken. "One word and I can have this spread on every network. Then it's just a matter of days until it reaches Wo Fat. Hours, if he isn't as holed up as we thought."

The other three turned to their leader, the one man they trusted without question. But Steve remained silent, his gaze unfocused.

"Steve?" Reena cocked her head. "It's a good plan."

"I know it is. It's not that."

"What is then? Come on, Steve, we're a team. You can talk to us," Chin said softly.

"I can step outside," Reena said.

"No," he snapped. "No," he repeated in a gentler voice. "It's just...My father was in on this. He was ready to sell out his country, the country he'd helped defend. He was willing to use someone's life to get what he wanted—"

"No," Reena interrupted. "He wasn't in on this, Steve. This was all a ruse to get more info on the governor and her dealings with the Yakuza and Wo Fat."

He flashed her a humorless smile. "You saw the video. You read the transcript. How can you doubt it?"

She shook her head vehemently, circled the table, and placed her hand on his arm. "Call it female intuition, call it sixth sense, call it gut instinct, I don't care. But trust me. Your father was innocent."

Hope flickered in his eyes. "How can you know?"

"Think about it," Chin answered instead of her. "You father planted that camera in the governor's office. Why would he then leave any incriminating evidence for anyone, especially you, to find. Garbled audio or not. He could not have forgotten about the camera. So it's obvious he was just acting for their benefit, to get near them, to get more dirt on them."

Sabrina nodded. Chin was right, but there was something more. John McGarrett couldn't not have been in on the ploy. Because he would never have risked his son's life.


	20. Chapter 19: Ohana

**Author's note:**Another short chapter, so I decided to post it early. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><em>Governor's residence, that evening<em>

"Let me get this straight," Marc began, pouring Sabrina a glass of red wine. "He agreed to use you as bait."

She swirled the wine in the glass, looked at the rich ruby color, smelled the delicate bouquet of the Pinot Noir. "Not exactly."

He slammed the pan against the stove. "You didn't tell them you'd be the bait."

It wasn't a question, but she decided to answer it anyway.

"I couldn't, without revealing other things," she said in a placating tone.

"Jesus, Sabrina!" he exploded. "Why all the secrecy? You keep saying it's over and done, yet you still refuse to tell them everything. Tell _him_ everything."

She looked away.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know."

She sounded so lost, so vulnerable, he circled the marble counter and gathered her in his arms. "Reen, what is it?"

She shrugged, circled his waist with her arms, hugged tightly. "I just...If he hates me, at least he feels something. If he learns the truth, I'll have nothing."

"He doesn't hate you, honey." He looked down at her with a crooked smile. "Trust me, I might be a guy, but I know it's not hate in his eyes when he looks at you. And what makes you think you'd have nothing if he knew the truth?"

"I wouldn't have him." She sniffed, moved away. "God, I'm pathetic. I knew what I was doing, I knew the consequences...Feeling sorry for myself is pointless." She drank her wine. "He's with Catherine. He's happy. He's moved on. I should be happy for him. I _am_ happy for him and let's change the subject. What are you cooking?"

He wanted to talk some more, but he could see she'd already hid behind that wall of hers. The wall she'd only let him glimpse behind a few times. The wall only one man could knock down. And that man didn't have all the facts to bother getting an RPG.

"Veal involtini a al Hawthorne."

Her woes well-hidden, her mouth watered. "Oh, yum. What's the occasion?"

He drizzled olive oil into the pan, shrugged. "We're celebrating a breakthrough."

Reena didn't buy his nonchalant tone or attitude. "Breakthrough? As in Mary-McGarrett-related breakthrough?" Her eyes widened as he actually blushed a little. "Oh my God! You got her to talk to you?"

"Not really." He grinned at her. "But she did unblock my number. I left her a message on her voice-mail."

"Ooh, voice-mail message. Very smooth. How did she ever let you get away?"

"Shut up."

"Feed me and I will."

.

.

_Mary Ann McGarrett's rental house_

Mary McGarrett listened to the single message on her voice-mail for the who-knew-what time since receiving it. There was nothing in the message to get her heart racing. Marcus Hawthorne had simply issued an invitation for coffee, whenever she wanted, but her heart was galloping anyway.

His voice, that deep, slightly raspy voice, evoked so many memories. Happy memories of picnics in the moonlight, walks on the beach, drives to Napa, movie nights that often ended in breakfast...And yet another memory his voice brought to mind. That of Marcus Hawthorne looking utterly sexy and rumpled, lifting himself on his arms above her after he woke her up with a kiss.

And then it all had gone to hell that night when she had turned into every freaking cliché out there and followed him home, only to see him invite another woman into his house. And now, to make matters worse, that same woman had turned out to be the one who had broken her brother's heart.

And Mary still had no idea what to do about Marcus Hawthorne and her jumbled feelings toward him. She was afraid to confront him about that night, but she knew sooner or later she would have to. _If_ she accepted his invitation, that is. But wasn't that the idea when she unblocked his number after all this time? For him to call her, to initiate a contact? And she was too chicken to call him back immediately, accept his invitation, and demand answers.

She chuckled softly. Sure, it was damned easy giving advice to her brother about how to go around discovering what had really happened five years ago—whether Sabrina had dumped him for Marcus, which was the obvious reason given everything they knew, but appearances could be deceiving...And sometimes they weren't.

And she was back to where she'd started. Too afraid to call him back, missing him too much not to remember, wanting to hear his voice too much not to listen to his message just one more time.

But before she could access her voice-mail yet again, her brother saved her from her folly, by showing up with two bags full of Kamekona's shrimp.

Feeling like two guinea pigs for the big guy's shrimpy-experiments, brother and sister talked about this and that, circling around subjects too painful or embarrassing to explore, spending a quiet, comfortable evening in each other's company, touching on the subject of their father only long enough for Steve to tell her about the team's theory, but they never broached the two subjects that were really on their minds.

He didn't talk about Sabrina Logan, and she never mentioned Marcus Hawthorne. Theirs was just a quiet family evening.


	21. Chapter 20: Hele lohi

_Five-0 Headquarters_

The next afternoon, Reena was busy tracking down anything she could about the former governor—Marc had had no luck in discovering anything in her files, so she had to rely, again, on her contacts, when there was a commotion in the main office. She looked up from her computer to find a purple-in-the-face Vincent Fryer, gesturing animatedly to a rather amused Kono, while Chin planted himself firmly between the IA Captain and his cousin. Danny and Steve were out, questioning a suspect in the child-kidnapping case that had dropped into their laps that morning.

As in most custody battles, the one currently receiving the brunt of Steve's scowls and Danny's sarcasm was the child's father.

Fryer was getting louder by the second and Reena decided to go see what all the ruckus was all about. Maybe she might even be of help. By throwing him out or give him CPR if he got even more purple.

The moment she emerged from Steve's office, Fryer pounced. "There you are? Are you happy now that you've ruined an investigation it took me months to set up?"

She blinked. "Excuse me? I didn't ruin anything."

"Hah, now you play coy. The Delano investigation is shot because of you."

"Captain Fryer, we simply went after two murderers. Witness-supported." She smiled coldly. "Don't blame others for your own messes. The Delano investigation is shot because you don't have squat on him."

She could swear steam was puffing out of his ears. "Come on, Vince. Do you think I'm stupid. You used to work together. First in Chicago, then here. He knows how you think."

Fryer suddenly calmed down. "You had me checked? Well, I asked around about you as well." He turned as Steve and Danny entered the main office, Steve looking warily at him and his proximity to Sabrina. "Do your new friends here know you actually don't work for the Homeland Security? That you don't work for any government agency at all? Do they know you're a fake?"

"What are you talking about?" Danny asked.

Sabrina simply smiled. "Who have you been talking to, Vince? Who do you know at DHS?"

"Richard Wilkes."

She laughed. "Rick the Dick? I wouldn't brag about such acquaintances if I were you."

Fryer frowned. "Stop trying to change the subject. You're an imposter—"

"No, I'm not," she interrupted. "You see, Vince, before you start checking up on someone, you should make sure you're getting your intel from a reliable source, not some disgruntled_ ex_ co-worker who still holds a grudge because I told him to take a hike when he suggested I let him show me all the ways the gods meant for a woman to know a man." She mock-shuddered at the memory. "Blech."

Fryer chuckled. "Nice story, missy. But I'd rather believe someone I actually know works for the DHS. Where is _your_ proof."

Reena rolled her eyes, pulled her phone out of a pocket in her cargo pants, and scrolled down her contacts. "Hi, Paul, it's Reena. Is he available?...Great. Could you put him on?...Hello, sir...I'm fine, sir, how about you?...So, I heard. I'm sorry to bother you, but there's someone who wants to speak to you. He needs proof that I still work for DHS...Yes...Thank you, sir. Here he is."

She offered her phone to Fryer, who scoffed, but pressed it to his ear anyway. "Hello?...What?...Vincent Fryer, HPD IA. And who is this?..." A chuckle. "The president? Yeah, right." He looked at Reena. "Nice trick." Spoke back into the phone. "Listen, buddy, if you're president, I'm Cleopatra...Fuck you, man."

Reena took back her phone, her eyes wide. "Did you just tell the president of the United States to fuck himself?"

"It wasn't the president," he growled. "You don't have the president among your phone contacts."

"True. I have his aide."

"Bullshit. You're trying to—" His phone rang, interrupting him. He answered, spoke softly—there were a lot of 'sirs', went pale as a ghost, a little more 'siring', and hung up.

"Who was that?" Reena asked sweetly.

"The commissioner," Fryer answered softly. "He just received a phone call from..." He cleared his throat, swallowed convulsively. "...the White House."

"So you _did_ say FU to the US president, Cleo," Reena reminded him.

Fryer sputtered, shot her one last poisonous glare, and rushed to placate the commissioner.

"You really have the president's number in your phone contacts?" Danny asked.

She rolled her eyes. "As if." She turned, but before she closed the office door behind her, she looked back over her shoulder, and added, "Just his aide's."

.

Steve left the others to throw theories around—they were still drawing a blank on the kidnapping, and the father had a solid alibi—and knocked softly on his office door.

"Have a minute?"

She didn't respond, but continued tapping on her laptop, her head down.

"Sabrina." It was a sigh. He closed the door behind him, stuck his hands in his pockets, and looked at her. "I don't know what I've done, but you can't keep avoiding me. Not after claiming that you wanted us to be friends." Another sigh. "I want to make this work, but I can't do that while trying not to misstep. You have to help me out, here, Reen. Talk to me."

Her head was still down.

"Jesus, Sabrina. What did I do?" He ran a hand over the scruff on his chin. "What do you _want_ me to do? Tell me, and I'll do it. I'll do anything, just..." God, he was so pathetic with that little break in his voice. "Don't shut me out." Not again.

Still nothing.

With a soft curse, he stepped to the desk, slammed his palms down onto its surface, and leaned over it. She finally lifted her head, her eyes wide pools of gray surprise, and something else, lurking in the back of her gaze, gone too suddenly for him to identify.

Leaning over the desk, their faces were close, too close. So close, it would've taken only a couple of inches for him to kiss her. Steve couldn't resist a glance at her lips. Then he quickly met her eyes again, once more glimpsing that elusive something else in her gaze.

Reena resisted licking her lips. It wouldn't do. That quick glance down must've been the requisite look a man gave any woman's lips in his proximity. She pulled her earphones out, wincing at how loud the music actually was. She pressed the stop button on her phone, placed it on the desk.

"What is it, Steve?"

No wonder she hadn't heard him with music blaring in her ears. Steve straightened, crossed his arms over his chest. Thankfully she hadn't heard him. Thank God others hadn't heard him, he'd never live it down.

"What happened to the always-be-aware-of-your-surroundings?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I figured I have three cops and a highly-trained Navy SEAL in that room. If anyone was to barge in, guns blazing, you four would shoot him before he could take another step. But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"I just wanted to know more about this program you plan to use as bait."

"Why?"

"Because no one knows anything about it. I checked."

She peered up at him, feeling a fist tighten around her heart. "You mean you had your girlfriend check. Shit, Steve, do you want to get her court-martialed?" She smiled cynically. "Of course, she'd be land-bound more often then."

He could've sworn she muttered "Hound-dog" under her breath.

"I'm just saying that no one in the DoD had heard of any global-positioning based missile-related program."

"It was classified."

He scowled. This was sounding like a start of an argument. "Meaning."

"Meaning it's beyond your pay grade. And Catherine's."

"You knew about it."

"I'm a very well-paid woman."

He rolled his eyes.

She jumped to her feet. "What the hell do you want from me, Steve?" she asked, unknowingly repeating his initial question.

"Why don't you tell me the truth for once?"

"I don't want to sound like a cliché, but you couldn't handle the truth, Steven."

"Why don't you try me, Sabrina?"

They were oblivious to the three pairs of eyes looking at them from outside.

She threw her hands up in the air. "I'm trying to track down governor's Jameson dealings, keeping my ear to the ground for Wo Fat...I can't do this right now."

"You never could. We always ended up fighting."

She smiled, remembering. "But the making up was great."

A mirroring grin. "Yeah."

And the uncomfortable silence fell.

"I have to get back to work," she said, motioning to the computer.

"Yeah, me too. Uhm, let me know when your friend is ready to start with your plan."

She nodded, looking at his retreating back, keeping silent that the trap has already been set.


	22. Chapter 21: Po'ipu mua

"_...Navy SEAL is a dangerous calling. Very prone to accidents. I'd be careful, if I were you, agent Logan."_

Reena's eyes snapped open and she huffed into the darkness. "Rats. There goes my beauty sleep. Again."

She really should stop having that stupid nightmare. It's been getting worse ever since she's set the trap for Wo Fat. It was probably due to all the waiting. The guy really took his time, didn't he?

She fluffed the pillow under her head, entwined her fingers on her stomach. A glance at her alarm clock told her it was just a little after one in the morning. Now what? Should she read? Listen to music? Watch a movie? Go down into the basement and kick the crap out of her sandbag?

Go down and investigate that subtle noise?

Reena blocked the sound of the surf coming in through her open window, strained her ears. There it was. That soft scratching noise.

She slowly sat up in bed, slowly opened her bedside drawer and pulled out her gun. She didn't have a pet, and this was too posh a house to have rodents. At least she hasn't heard any rodents scratching around until tonight. Which meant this was a rodent of a two-legged variety.

She swung her legs over her bed, rolled her eyes at Wo Fat's lousy timing. If she were a criminal mastermind, she'd get things done sooner, not wait for more than a week. What a loser.

Padding barefoot out of her room, and down the hallway to the other side of the house, and her den, Reena inhaled and exhaled slowly, regularly, bringing her heart-beat down, focusing on the sounds around her. Focusing on any possible traps, on any possible intruder lurking in the deep shadows.

There was just the sound of tapping coming out of her den.

She grinned. Show time.

The door was open, her intruder sitting pretty as you please at her desk, gaining access to her computer. Well, trying to, it didn't look like the attempts were successful.

"Dobroye utro, Jelena," she said, her hand steady as she pointed her gun.

Jelena Zagorinskaya shot up from her chair, spun around, and glared at Sabrina.

Reena smiled at the startled expression on the woman's face. Like she hadn't been expecting her. She listened for other sounds from the house, but there was still nothing, so she decided to be polite a little longer. "Kak dyela?"

"Well, thank you."

Reena made a moue. "Why won't you let me practice my Russian a little longer?" She shrugged. "No matter. From where I'm standing it doesn't look to go well at all." She nodded toward her computer, still open on the login screen. "You do know you need a password for that, don't you?"

Zagorinskaya scowled. "I'll figure it out eventually."

"Will you? Tell me, will that be while I beat the crap out of you or after I take you to jail?"

The other woman smiled evilly. "Neither."

And Reena heard it. A scraping sound at her left. Then, a thin red beam appeared in her peripheral vision. She moved on autopilot, turned, took two shots, and her would-be killer collapsed in her living room.

The move cost her her advantage on Zagorinskaya, though. The other woman came at her like a valkyrie, kicked her gun out of her hand, and slashed forward with a vicious-looking knife. Reena sucked her stomach in, avoiding the blade by a scant inch.

Zagorinskaya, knowing victory was close with her opponent without a weapon, closed in, knife slashing, steering her away from her gun.

Reena ducked, danced out of reach, keeping one eye on Zagorinskaya and her knife and the other on her gun, mocking her from underneath her coffee table. That's what she got for being careless. When things looked too easy shit always happened. Then her feet hit the dead guy and she went down hard.

Zagorinskaya kneeled on her opponents stomach and smirked. "This time we win." She lifted the knife for the final blow. "I'll make sure to say hello to your Navy SEAL."

And Reena's mind went blank. Blood roaring in her ears, she blocked Zagorinskaya's wrist on the brutal downward swing, the impact sending a stinging pain up her own arm, but she could barely feel it. Another upward swing and the knife went flying. She thrust her other hand up, the heel of her palm connecting with Zagorinskaya's nose. Cartilage crunched, blood spurted, and the Russian screeched in pain.

Swinging her legs around Jelena, Reena crossed her ankles at the woman's throat, pressing her head back, swinging them both to the side, until she was free of Jelena's weight on her stomach.

They rolled, grappling, fighting for the top position. Reena won. She straddled Jelena and punched her in the already-broken nose. Another punch. Another. On and on she went on autopilot, Jelena's words ringing in her ears.

The Russian screeched in rage and pain, grabbed Reena's hands using them to lift her upper body from the floor, and smashed her forehead into her opponents face. As Reena reeled back, Jelena brought her knees to her chest, and sent her flying back.

Reena landed on her back with a bone-jarring impact, but was on her feet a kip-up later. And not a second too late, for Jelena had stumbled toward her fallen comrade's body and went for his weapon.

Jelena gritted her teeth, wiping blood from her eyes. She was done playing. Though the bitch deserved to die painfully, Jelena chose expediency against pleasure. She grabbed Dmitri's automatic, swung around, and pulled the trigger.

When the hail of bullets hit the wall beside her head, Reena dove right. She slammed against the hardwood floor, pain shooting through her elbow, and slid.

Before Jelena could circle the sofa, Reena grabbed her gun, rolled onto her back and emptied her mag into the Russian.

When the woman's body dropped, Reena lay back down, panting, sweating, and hurting, taking a few moments to do inventory. Nothing seemed to be broken, a quick glance showed no sign of bleeding. Feeling the shakes coming, she threw one arm over her eyes, weathering the adrenaline crash.

Then, when it was over, she groaningly rose to her feet, picked up the cordless phone, and, with a grimace to the destruction of her living room, dialed.


	23. Chapter 22: Ho'omaha

The ringing of his phone woke him up from an incredibly vivid erotic dream. No wonder he's been talking in his sleep. With a groan, Steve rolled over, checked the time—almost two a.m., and rolled his eyes at the caller ID.

"What is it now, Danny?" If his partner had woken him because he couldn't sleep and wanted to talk about Rachel again, this time he _would_ shoot him.

"Chin got a call from a buddy in dispatch. There's been a 911 call from Sabrina's house. A B&E gone bad, two people dead."

Steve was halfway down the stairs when Danny finished. "I'll meet you there," he snapped, disconnected, grabbed his keys, and was out of the house barely three minutes after waking up.

.

.

_Sabrina Logan's rental house_

The flashing blue lights illuminating her face, Reena was giving her statement to an officer, when a black Harley, a red Chevy Cruze, a silver Camaro, and a blue pick-up roared to a stop at the curb almost simultaneously.

"Oh great," she muttered sarcastically, "the cavalry is here. Are we done here?"

The officer nodded and moved away.

She turned toward the Five-0's charging toward her. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded. "I called 911 not you."

"We'll talk about that later. Are you okay?" Steve asked softly, his eyes running from her mused hair, the faint smudges appearing on her face, down to the bruise on her chin, the rumpled T-shirt, scrapes on her legs laid bare by her shorts, bruises on her feet, then back up.

His soft tone got to her, and she knew that was precisely what he wanted—get her off her fighting high—but she couldn't let herself soften. "I'm fine, as you can see. You can leave. There's been no murder, just self-defense."

"We're not leaving," Danny said. "Nice T-shirt, by the way."

She wore the gag gift she had bought for Marc's birthday two years ago. A T-shirt with the inscription MARINES DO IT AGAINST THE WALL. Needless to say, Marc refused to wear it. And not, he'd been adamant, because Marines _didn't_ do it against the wall. It was just tacky. "Thanks. Don't try to change the subject. Go away. Everything's under control."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, a strange apprehension curling in his stomach. "You're a Five-0, now. We don't abandon our team."

Reena rolled her eyes at his obtuseness. "That's precisely why I want you out of here. This shouldn't be categorized as team work."

Now a scowl accompanied the arms-crossed pose. "Meaning."

"Meaning I just killed Jelena Zagorinskaya and one of her goons for breaking into my house. You shouldn't be involved."

"What?" Steve saw red. Letting his arms drop to his sides, he got into her face. "_You_ were bait?"

She shrugged.

He clamped his hands on her shoulders, shook her. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That we needed to get Wo Fat out of hiding." She slapped his hands away. "Now, get out of here."

Danny shook his head. "We're not moving."

"Jesus!" she snapped. "Are you really that dense? This cannot be linked to you guys!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because Zagorinskaya was Wo Fat's fiancée. His family. And he'll go after the families of those responsible, or those he deems responsible." She looked straight into Danny's eyes. "Do you want to risk Gracie? Rachel?" She then turned to Kono and Chin. "What about your entire family?" She's saved Steve for last. "Do _you_ want to risk anything happening to Mary? Catherine might be able to take care of herself, but not against someone she doesn't see coming."

Danny looked a little green around the gills, but still asked. "What about you?"

She shrugged. "I have no family."

"You do now," Kono replied.

Reena needed to get them away, needed to get Steve away. "I don't have time for this. Please, _please_, leave."

They looked at each other. Their loved ones could be protected. _Would _be protected at all cost. But that didn't mean they would abandon one of their own.

"No."

"No way."

"We're a team."

Steve just looked at her.

"Fine." She threw her hands up in surrender. "Whatever. It's not like I can order you to leave."

"Exactly," he murmured with a satisfied smirk.

"She can't, but I can," a deep voice added.

Reena scowled. "What are _you_ doing here? I told you on the phone. I'm fine."

"And I wanted to see for myself," Marcus Hawthorne replied. "And I'm not letting you stay at a hotel tonight."

When he reached her, she poked him in the chest. "I'll be fine," she hissed. "Now get out of here. I don't need one more stubborn idiot to contend with. I'm covered. Besides, you're the governor, if he knew, he could easily come after you."

He shrugged. "And I'll be waiting."

"Stupid grunts," she muttered.

"Oorah," he replied with a smile. "Get a few things together, you're sleeping at my place tonight."

Reena rolled her eyes, but knew it was pointless trying to reason with Marc when he was in full protective mode. "Give me a couple of minutes."

.

"There was no friend, was there?"

Busy stuffing her laptop and a change of clothes into a duffel, the quiet question startled her. She slowly turned to see Steve at her bedroom door, leaning with one shoulder against the jamb, his eyes bleak.

"You were talking about yourself. _You_ developed that program."

Silent, she walked to her dresser, pulled a T- shirt out of the second drawer.

"Who did they threaten if you don't have any family?"

She flinched.

"Who, Sabrina? Your boyfriend?"

Her heart in her throat, she turned to look at him. Did he know?

Steve looked into her wide eyes and his heart sank. "They threatened Hawthorne."

Reena blinked. What? He thought that she and Marc were...She swallowed, decided to tell the truth. "Yes, they threatened the man I love." Not the man he thought, though.

He nodded, feeling like he was dying on the inside. She's used the present tense. "And what did you do?"

"What was necessary."

"What did you do?"

"I killed them."

She sounded so matter of fact yet so lonely, he wanted to hold her close so badly he could taste it. But he kept his distance. Because now he knew the truth.

Reena picked up her duffel, brushed against him as she left the bedroom, refusing to let him see how much that small contact reassured her she'd done the right thing five years ago. That she was doing the right thing now. He was alive because of what she'd done. There was nothing more important than keeping him alive. No matter the cost.

"I'll see you later," she murmured and walked down the hallway to where her brother waited to take her home.


	24. Chapter 23: La'i mua 'ino

Two weeks have passed. Two weeks since the night Sabrina had killed Jelena Zagorinskaya. Two weeks of waiting for Wo Fat to show up. Two weeks of keeping family, friends, and loved ones under constant protection.

Kono and Chin's family was the easiest. With so many cops of the same blood-line, the chances of someone attempting something were very slim. Mary Ann McGarrett had refused to leave the islands, so she spent her days with Kamekona and his buddies, going slowly nuts, but deciding not to be more of a bother to her brother. He had other fish to fry. Marc Hatwhorne had his usual gubernatorial entourage to keep him safe, with added protection in the form of a gun in an ankle holster, another in his briefcase, and a knife hidden God knew where.

It was Danny that worried the most. And rightfully so. For Stanley 'the Asshole' Edwards refused to let bodyguards encumber him in his business dealings. And he absolutely refused for a bunch of thugs, as he called them, to follow Rachel and Grace around, disrupting a pregnant woman's routine and cause her apprehension of any kind.

It didn't occur to him that a pregnant woman's routine might as well be disrupted by a hired killer or that her daughter's kidnapping might cause her plenty of apprehension. He remained an asshole, determined to hire bodyguards from a private firm, owned by one of his golfing buddies. A firm no one has ever heard about, that had no reference, and the backgrounds on its employees showed absolutely no training.

But luckily, in the two weeks, there have been no sign of Wo Fat, despite Reena's dark predictions of his imminent vengeful return.

Beside Wo Fat, there was something else that has been absent in the past two weeks. Any kind of warmth between Steve and Sabrina. They have barely spoken and even when they did it was about a case their little task force was working on.

Oh, they were civil, all right. Civil, polite, professional. But nothing more. It hurt, it chafed, but she didn't push. It was, after all, what she wanted. As much distance as she put between them, the less danger he was in.

Did she delude herself she could protect a trained Navy SEAL? Probably. Had she deluded herself before. Most likely. But she couldn't help it. She refused to be the reason he was in danger. She refused to risk his life because of her. So the cold front wafting from him each time they met, worked perfectly.

The incredible change in the relationship between their boss and Sabrina Logan hadn't escaped the rest of the team. The three had questions, but didn't want to ask them. They had drawn their own conclusions, but didn't dare express them.

Even Danny was in the dark as to why the relationship between Steve and Sabrina had cooled. Not that he hadn't asked. He had, often, but Steve remained close-mouthed, his eyes filling with pain at each question, so after a while Danny stopped asking. He missed the light-hearted Steve, though. The guy who had emerged when Sabrina Logan had joined their fold. There were no more easy smiles, no more banter, no more glimpses of that dry sense of humor. He's gone back to his acerbic, taciturn, brooding self, though at sometimes he appeared even worse than before.

And today was no different. Danny sighed. Sabrina's mostly kept to herself lately, cocooned in Steve's office, tapping away at her computer or talking on the phone, but every time she came out, whether to give her input on a case, go out for lunch or to take a bathroom break, he felt, they all felt the chills. And he was really getting tired of it. Hawaii were supposed to be warm and sunny all year long, but if Steve and Sabrina kept it up, that characteristic would have to be changed.

He fiddled with his phone, looking at pictures Grace had sent him from the Edwards' still-lasting trip to New Orleans—at least he didn't have to worry about her or Rachel being in danger for a while—when Chin stormed into the office.

"We have a double homicide in Lānaʻi. Honeymooners rented a 4WD to visit Keahiakawelo. They didn't return to their hotel last night. They found them this morning. It doesn't appear to be robbery, the jeep is still there, so are their documents and money...The chopper's waiting."

Without a word, Steve stood, looked at Danny, motioned to his office.

Danny rolled his eyes and knocked on the glass door. "Sabrina?"

She lifted her head. "Danny."

"We're going to Lānaʻi, double homicide." He cleared his throat, beyond uncomfortable, feeling like a teenager brokering between two class-mates.

Reena saved him by shaking her head. "I'm expecting to hear from a contact. You go, I'll watch the fort."

He nodded, turned to leave, when she called his name.

"Send me the photos and the prelim report, I'll see what I can find."

His lips curved in a silent thank-you and he was off.

.

Three hours later Reena debated whether to call Marc and invite him to lunch, when her email program pinged. Her heart beat faster as she read the short message. She called the sender immediately. "Are you sure?" She didn't bother with a greeting. And when the person on the other side of the line confirmed the intel, she also didn't bother with saying goodbye.

She immediately called Steve. Despite their quasi-animosity he had the right to know.

_The number you are trying to reach is not reachable. Please try again later._

"What the..."

She tried again. Same spiel. She didn't even get to leave a message on his voice-mail. Where the hell were they? The moon? No wonder she hasn't received any data from Danny.

So she called her brother. "He's in Hawaii. Not sure where exactly, but he's here."

He was brief, "I'll take the necessary precautions. Mary?"

Reena smiled. "I'll call and tell them to be on the lookout."

Before she could call Kamekona and ask about Mary, give him a heads-up about Wo Fat, his name appeared on her caller ID.

Her heart in her throat—Steve would never forgive himself if something happened to his sister, she answered.

"Sorry to bother you, _noelani koa_. I tried calling the _haole_ cop, but I can't reach him." Though she was a _haole_, too, he never called her that. He preferred 'warrior princess', it suited her more.

He was taking his sweet 'island time', so she interrupted him. "Kamekona, the point."

"Oh, right. Sorry. My cousin who works at the airport called me. The Edwards family is back on the island."

"What?" Reena ran her hand through her hair. "They were supposed to stay in New Orleans for another week."

"True, but my cousin said The Asshole was bragging about a big deal he returned for." Kamekona was silent for a moment. "He also said it was all hush-hush, that even his associate who arranged the meeting didn't know the other party."

A mysterious other party in a secret, important business deal that forced the Edwards' to return early. Just when Wo Fat arrived in Hawaii. The sudden double homicide on a different island, a crime that was immediately transferred to the Five-0, keeping them away from O'ahu for a couple of hours...

"Shit. It's a decoy." She grabbed her helmet and the keys to her bike. "Kamekona, when did they land?"

"About half an hour ago."

"Damn it, they're probably home already." She ran down the front steps of the HQ. "Kamekona, keep trying Steve and Danny. Tell them it's all a trap. Wo Fat is on the islands. He's going after Grace and Rachel. I'm on my way there."

She heard him start to object, but she disconnected, straddled her bike, and roared toward Kuli'ou'ou.


	25. Chapter 24: Po'ipu lua

_4347 Summer Street, K__uli'ou'ou, Honolulu_

As she drove past the Edwards' residence, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. The gate was closed, their car was in the driveway...But she decided to play it cool nevertheless. She stashed her bike a few houses down and circled around back.

She peeked over the wall and everything inside her went cold. As much as it all appeared normal from the front, the backyard was anything but. Three members of Edwards' private security detail lay unmoving on the grass.

Reena ducked and called HPD for backup. She didn't get good news.

"There's an armed robbery in process at the First Hawaiian Bank. We have two officers down. All available units have been dispatched."

Of course. She could bet her bike on the fact the shakedown wasn't strictly an armed robbery. What better way to get the entire force in one place—on the other side of town, than by shooting two of their own. Another diversion.

She had no more time to waste. She silenced her phone, stuck in into her pocket, and vaulted the wall. When she neared the first body, she knew she wouldn't have to bother with feeling for the pulse. His throat had been slit. Wo Fat certainly loved recruiting knife-wielding thugs.

A quick check showed they hadn't bothered with taking his weapon. She grimaced at closer inspection. The nine mil was equipped with a silencer. Who did these bodyguards think they were, the mafia? You didn't bother with being silent when your charge was in danger. She stuck the gun in the back of her cargos just in case anyway.

As she slowly moved toward the house, she checked the other two. They'd received the same treatment. She had no idea exactly how many bodyguards Edwards has hired, but she was sure they've all fared the same.

Her thoughts were confirmed as she peered through the open back door. One man, his throat slit, lay in the kitchen. She quickly cleared it, and slowly peered through the door into the narrow hall. Empty as well. She guessed they weren't worried about any surprise interruptions.

She moved quickly and silently toward the back of the house, when she heard Grace William's cry out, "No! Let go of my mommy! Let her go!" Then a calm promise, "Danno will kill you."

And Reena clicked an imaginary switch and streams of thought stopped, her mind went blank. Until there was nothing but her slow, regular heart-beat and the Yakuza member lounging against the wall a few feet away from her, thinking he had everything in his line of sight.

He had another thing coming. She replaced her own gun with the one she'd taken from the dead bodyguard, dropped to the floor, and slid a few inches forward, enough to fit the silencer between the wall and the large flower plant in front of her.

Taking a slow breath, she closed her eyes, found her center, opened them again, and squeezed the trigger. Leaving the gun with a soft _pfft_, the nine millimeter round crashed into his throat at eleven hundred feet per second, severing the spinal cord and obliterating his brain stem. Very _Miami Vice_—the movie—but it worked. He went down without a twitch, the plush carpet effectively muffling his impact.

Reena didn't allow herself to dwell on the fact she's just killed a man in cold-blood. There would be plenty of time for that later. She was on autopilot, the only thing that mattered at the moment was keeping the family safe.

There was one more Yakuza stationed in the living room, this one a bit more alert than his colleague. He saw her before she could duck, yelled a warning, and started shooting.

When he emptied his mag, Reena went in low, hitting him in the stomach, and they both went sprawling. She was faster to gain her feet. She pulled her own gun and pumped three rounds in his throat before he could blink.

She quickly pivoted, gun pointed at the doorway, waiting for the guy's backup. None came. There were only three. Good. Less work for her.

She stuck the man's vicious-looking switchblade in her pocket, and then, gun loosely held in her hand, slowly moved toward the living room. Gun first, she checked the corners, before training the weapon on the scarred man holding a Glock against Rachel Edwards' belly.

"One move and I kill her."

Ignoring Rachel's gasp, Reena smirked. "You'd have to aim a little higher for that."

"Shut up!" he snarled. "I'll kill the baby."

She shrugged. "You kill the baby, I kill you. You kill the lady, I kill you. Either way you're dead. Works for me."

Rachel started sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared accusingly at Sabrina Logan. How could the woman calmly stand there discussing her baby's death like it was nothing. She looked so cold, so detached, like she truly didn't care.

Reena ignored her, she had to if she wanted to keep them all safe, her hand steady as she aimed it at Scarface's head. "Drop the gun, _shonen_, and I just might let you live. I can even offer you protection from your boss. I don't think Wo Fat will take your failure lightly."

He sneered. "I didn't fail, bitch." He pressed the gun more firmly against Rachel's belly. "Vengeance will be his."

Reena rolled her eyes and said softly, "Gracie, turn away. Stan, don't let her watch."

Scarface narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning to do, huh? Kill me?"

"Rachel, close your eyes and don't move."

"You can't kill me," Scarface raged. "I'll kill the—"

A boom reverberated off the walls and windows in the living room and Scarface collapsed in a boneless heap on the carpet, a hole in his throat, his gun useless in his limp grip.

Feeling a light touch on her hand, Rachel opened her eyes to meet Sabrina's soft gaze. There was a riot of emotions in those gray eyes and Rachel felt ashamed for thinking this woman was cold.

"Are you okay?" Reena asked softly.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "Yes, thank you."

A small smile. "You're welcome." Reena nodded toward Grace, huddled in Stan's lap. "Go to your daughter." She walked toward the doorway. "Then we'll get out—"

An inhuman roar interrupted her and she watched as an enormous Samoan dude charged toward her. It was surreal, almost as if watching a move in slow motion...Then he slammed his shoulder into her midsection, lifted her off her feet, and threw her against the wall.

She tasted blood as her gun clattered toward a corner of the room. Before she could slide to the floor, he picked her up again, lifted her over his head in a weightlifter's pose, and sent her flying again. She heard Rachel shriek and Grace burst into tears again, when she hit the bookcase full force.

Damn, the guy was strong, throwing her left and right like a sack of potatoes. She rolled onto her knees with a groan—she didn't stand a chance against a mountain, but she sure could try to hurt him, when he was beside her once more.

Another inhuman roar—apparently he was unable to communicate in any other way—and she was up in the air again. But this time he didn't throw her, he simply slammed her down on top of the coffee table. The measly thing didn't stand a chance against such brute force. It literally disintegrated underneath her.

Reena gathered what was left of her strength to kick him where it hurt most—if one wasn't an eunuch, but he squelched her rebellion before it started by straddling her. Her ribs protested, and were soon joined by her lungs, when the behemoth lowered his entire weight on top of her.

She tried to imagine how they must look like with him sitting on top of her, she was sure the image was hilarious, when he circled her neck with his fingers and started squeezing.

She thrashed under him, her punches, already feeble against his size, getting weaker, her lungs screaming for oxygen, her vision filled with his grimace-like grin. She adamantly refused to die with his face being the last thing she saw. Then she remembered the knife she'd taken took off his cohort. Her own was too far to reach, tucked in her boot.

She strained, got the knife out of her pocket, pressed the button, and sank the blade in his throat.

He chortled, narrowed his eyes, and squeezed harder.

Reena clawed at his hands, tried to claw at his eyes, but couldn't muster the strength to lift her arms. Black dots appeared before her eyes, growing bigger, merging. She opened her mouth, desperate to draw a breath...

And everything went black.


	26. Chapter 25: Hāne'e

_Medical Examiner Facility, 835 Iwilei Road, Honolulu_

Dr. Max Bergman stopped in the middle of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ when he heard the familiar thread of Steve McGarret and Danny Williams coming from behind him. He stood, turned toward them, his hands clasped in front of him, a frown between his brows.

"What are you doing here?"

Steve and Danny looked at each other, then Steve sighed. "Max, we sent you two bodies. Tell me you started on the autopsy."

"Of course I did, COD is a GSW to the back of the head." He stopped, mentally berating himself. Cause of death wasn't the most important thing right now. "I thought you'd be at the hospital."

"Why?" Danny asked.

"Hasn't anybody called you?"

Steve has reached the limit on his patience. They've spent half a day in the field, on an island where they didn't even have one single traffic light, communications have been almost impossible with the bad cell-reception, he was tired, he was dirty, and he didn't want to decipher Max-speech on top of it all.

"Max, spell it out, will you," he snapped. "Our phones are dead." No wonder with six hours of trying to get a bar of reception.

"Uhm." Max looked down, wished he could go back to playing his piano. He wasn't good at this communication stuff. Especially with what he had to communicate. "There's been a break-in at the Edwards' residence."

Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "They're not home."

"Well," Max mumbled. "They landed today."

"What?"

The ME nodded quickly. "Yes. They were attacked."

Danny went green. "What?"

Max knew he wasn't doing this right. "No, no, they're okay."

"You asked why we weren't at the hospital, Max," Steve reminded him, tiredness forgotten.

"So they're not fine," Danny finished. "It is Grace? Rachel?"

"No, no." Max shook his head vehemently. "They're both fine."

"Then who's at the hospital," Danny demanded. "Stan?" Which wasn't that bad, not that he'd say that aloud.

"No, the family's fine. It's Sabrina."

Steve blanched, turned, and ran out of the lab.

Danny was right at his heals. "Do you want me to drive?"

"No." Steve slid his butt on the hood to get to the driver's side faster. "Get in."

.

.

_Hawaii Medical Center East, Honolulu_

"I'm fine," Reena croaked, swinging her legs off the hospital bed.

"You're not fine, ma'am," a nurse said sternly, trying to push her back. "You have a stridor due to an upper airway edema and neck hematoma. We need to keep you under observation for the night."

"So you're telling me I wheeze, and I have a swollen and bruised neck." She paused, tried to swallow to moisten her throat. It didn't help. "Someone tried to strangle me, I know, I was there."

"They succeeded," Marc said softly from behind her, his heart still racing with the thought of how close he's come to losing her.

The nurse looked at him gratefully. "Exactly. You were dead for a few seconds, ma'am. We need to make sure nothing else was damaged."

Reena rolled her eyes, but with her throat hurting, she couldn't offer any objections. That sucked. But not as much as it would've sucked to be dead. At least now she had proof that the whole light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel was a load of crap. She hadn't seen any light. But that was probably because Kamekona has brought her back before she could reach the end of that proverbial tunnel.

Not that she remembered, or that he'd bragged about saving her. Little Grace Williams had told her the story when Reena had woken up. Apparently deciding to give a helping hand, Kamekona had ventured, alone, to the Edwards residence, arriving just in time to get her assailant off her and finish what she'd started, by pulling the knife through the tissue on the Samoan's thick neck.

When he could not find a pulse, he had administered CPR, bringing her back from the dead, called an ambulance, and followed it to the hospital with the Edwards family in tow. They haven't moved from the hallway ever since.

And then, when she'd thanked him for saving her, he had offered just a small smile, nodded, and went back to reading his comic book, keeping vigil at the window of her room.

The nurse, appeased that her patient wasn't going anywhere, nodded and left the room, confident the governor and the big guy would not let Miss Logan go anywhere.

Reena sighed, coughed, grabbed her neck when a splinter of pain shot directly into her brain, and reached for the cup of ice-chips.

Then, she heard a little girl's excited "Daddy!", a man's growled "Where is she?", and then Steve McGarrett filled the doorway, his eyes running over her.

She tried to smile, but it wobbled, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms, his face pressed into her neck.

As Steve had rushed to the hospital, the only thing on his mind had been a silent prayer for her to be all right. And when he'd seen her there, sitting on the bed, dwarfed by the large hospital gown, her bare feet swinging slightly, all he could think of was how incredibly beautiful she looked.

And then, unable to help himself, he crossed the room, gathered her in his arms, held her close, and pressed his face into her neck. Fighting tears of relief he inhaled her soft scent, sighing as he felt her arms come around him, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape.

A few long minutes later, when he finally lifted his head, moved slightly away and looked at her with an expression that was such a sweet mixture of concern and care Reena had a hard time fighting the compulsion of bursting into tears, crawling back into his arms, and stay there.

His gut clenched as he finally saw the damage done to her neck. The usually creamy-white skin was one big bruise, the veins in her neck prominent, creating a white web-like pattern against the blue and purple marks. There were fingertip bruises on the border of her jaw on either side of the contusion. The broken capillaries in her eyes and the abrasions on her hands showed she'd put up quite a struggle.

He noticed his hand was shaking as he lifted it to gently touch her neck. He wanted blood.

Reena clasped his wrist. "I'm fine, Steve," she whispered.

He nodded. "Is he dead?"

"Kamekona killed him. Saved my life."

Only then did Steve notice the big Hawaiian hovering by the window. "_Mahalo_, brah."

Kamekona inclined his bald head. "Don't mention it, brah."

"Especially since he was doing _your_ job."

Steve glared into the corner from which the sarcastic remark came, and met the incensed gaze of Marcus Hawthorne.

Reena felt him pull back even before he let her go. She rolled her eyes, glared back at her brother. "Butt out, Marc," she wheezed.

"No, Sabrina." Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Let him finish."

Marc was on his feet immediately. Maybe he was acting rashly and childishly, but this was his little sister they were talking about. And she was in the hospital because of Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett. By God he'd finish.

"She's part of your team, McGarrett. What was she doing on an op on her own, without backup, huh? Where were you?"

When he lunged, Reena jumped off the bed, fought the bout of dizziness, won, and planted herself between the two men. Her back to Steve, in full mama-bear protection mode, she glared at Marc.

"_She_'s part of his team because of _you_, governor Hawthorne. _She_ was on an op on her own, because the Five-0 team were doing their job, because Wo Fat created a perfect diversion, and because _she_ was the only one available to save the Edwards family."

The speech drained the strength out of her vocal cords, until the last words were barely above a whisper.

"And if you intend to stand there, heaping blame on people who don't deserve it, I don't want you here."

A silent battle of wills raged as brother's and sister's glares clashed. But Marc, knowing she was right, but damn if he'd admit it, sighed, and with one last poisonous glare at McGarrett, strode out of the room.

Reena turned, looked sheepishly up at Steve. "Sorry about that," she whispered.

"You don't need to defend me," he said coldly, his eyes distant. "He was right. I should have protected you." His gaze froze over. "And he has more rights to be here than I do."

He turned and left without another word.

She heard Danny call him in the hall, ask him where he was going.

His clipped "Home" sounded as final as the slamming of a door.

.

The night nurse left Sabrina Logan's room, made the annotation of the time—11 p.m.—on the chart and looked up to see a man striding purposefully toward her.

"Sorry, sir, no visitors allowed after 9 p.m."

"I just need a few minutes."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow it." Then she saw the badge clipped to his waist. "Do you work with her?"

A slow nod.

She sighed. "I have to check-up on her at half-past."

The corners of the man's lips curved up. "Thank you."

She smiled back. "Go ahead. But be careful. It's been a rough evening. She's sedated. Don't wake her, she needs her rest."

"I'll be careful," he replied, stepped into the room, and closed the door softly behind him.

She was curled on her side, her hands tucked under her chin, the monitor beside the bed beeping steadily as it received the data from the pulse oximeter on her finger.

He slowly lifted the chair from beside the door, placed it by the bed, and sat at her side. He spent a few minutes watching her, before lifting his hand, and gently brushing a strand of hair off her forehead, tucking it behind her ear.

He didn't know how long he sat there, simply watching her breathe, listening to the steady beat of her heart, before he finally decided to do what he came here for, hoping she'd be asleep to make this easier.

He placed his head on her pillow, their noses almost touching. "You know," he whispered, "if someone had told me, before I met you, that someone as tiny as you could hurt me, I wouldn't have believed it. But they would've been right. You hurt me. You still hurt me. And you don't even know it."

He leaned that tiny bit forward, touched his nose to hers. "I wish it was physical. Those wounds heal, they might leave a scar, but they heal. This wound deep inside me, it didn't heal. I thought it did, but you proved me wrong. It's still raw and bleeding, and it keeps opening up every time I look at you, every time I see you with him."

He placed a soft kiss to her forehead, touched his nose back to hers. "I wish I could hate you for it, but I don't. I can't. And today, when I heard you were hurt, when I thought I might never see you again, I realized why I could never hate you. No matter what you do, no matter how much it hurts."

No wonder he had been unable to love Catherine back the way she wanted to be loved. The way she deserved to be loved. No wonder he had been unable to let any woman close. This one, this tiny, resilient, strong, stubborn, beautiful woman still had her claws embedded inside him. And he was powerless to get them out.

Watching her, he leaned in, touched his lips to hers. Closing his eyes, he lingered, increasing the pressure just a tiny bit, to fuse their mouths together. He allowed himself just a small taste, before letting up, until his lips were barely brushing hers.

"_Aloha wau iā 'oe a mau loa_," he whispered against her lips._ Five little words he could never say to her if she were awake. I will love you forever._

He kissed her softly one last time, stood, and left as silently as he's come in.


	27. Chapter 26: Ho'omaha

Once all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place, their double homicide had really been an open and shut case. The honeymooners had been shot in the back of their heads, execution style, the ballistics matched the rounds to the Glock the scarred Yakuza had held to Rachel Edwards' stomach.

The armed robbery had also turned out to be a diversion, forcing the HPD to concentrate all their efforts in one place, preventing anyone from calling them for backup. Only one of the robbers had been apprehended—after receiving an injury, his colleagues had left him behind—and his record had showed strong ties to the Yakuza chapter on the islands.

It had all been masterfully orchestrated by Wo Fat, and if it hadn't been for a tiny little woman who seriously lacked in self-preservation, he would've succeeded.

The only downside to it all, Danny mused the next day as he compiled the report, was the fact the little spitfire hadn't left anyone alive to possibly tell them where Wo Fat was hiding.

But he couldn't hold that tidbit against her. She had, after all saved his daughter and his ex-wife. If she hadn't killed those bastards, he'd more than happy do it himself. Though, he flexed his fingers at the memory, punching Stan 'the Asshole' last night had felt pretty good. And the idiot hadn't even understood the reason behind the punch. He'd been had by Wo Fat and he probably still didn't get it. What a schmuck.

When she was better, he might even attempt to persuade Sabrina to have a go at Stan. He grinned at the mental picture. He'd make sure to have plenty of popcorn handy for _that_ show.

He sighed, fiddling with the cane he still kept around for emergencies. The report was finished and he was bored. Kono and Chin were out pumping their informants for any intel on Wo Fat, Sabrina was still in the hospital, and Steve...God only knew where Steve was. He hasn't seen his partner ever since the previous afternoon.

Whatever had gone down in that room hadn't been good. Steve had looked like a storm cloud with a deep under layer of pain, while Sabrina had barely held back tears. And tears of sadness in those eyes was a sight one probably saw once in a decade, so much control she had over her emotions. Well, except where Steve was concerned.

Which made the other-guy theory a load of crock, if they asked him. Not that anyone bothered, that is. And Danny also appeared to be the only one who noticed the eyeballing from either party when the other wasn't looking. It was high-school all over again. Only with a commando wardrobe, ninja skills, and lots of firepower.

He rubbed his fingers on his chin. He had no idea how the governor was involved, but it sure wasn't romantically. At least not with Sabrina. Not that anyone asked for his input on that one either. And he sure wouldn't venture into theorizing territory with Steve on that issue. His friend wouldn't listen. Stubborn, blind, besotted idiot.

When a glance at his phone showed it was past noon and there was still no sign of Steve, Danny decided to call him. One never knew with his partner. He might've fallen off a cliff, got shot, ended up in prison...That was Steve for you

But it turned out to be nothing extreme. Steve was simply holed up on the rifle range in the Marine base with Joe White, shooting at the hill.

Business as usual? Sure, if it wasn't past noon. This was more. Frustration, probably, mixed with a nice heaping of guilt, and a seasoning of other feelings that were bubbling close to Steve's surface these days.

So with nothing better to do, Danny went out to grab a bite and make a short visit.

.

.

_Hawaii Medical Center East_

Sabrina's thumb was going through a heavy exercise regime as she channel surfed, but the tiny television mounted on the wall in front of her didn't yield anything interesting. She wasn't a fan of talk-shows, even less of soap-operas, and that was pretty much all they ran early in the afternoon. She had hoped for some cartoons, but her hopes were quickly squashed.

Hitting the same soap-opera channel for the third time, she threw in the towel. She shut the TV off, threw the remote to the foot of her bed, huffed, picked up her little cup of water, and sucked on the straw.

Another night. She had to spend another night in here. Which meant the entire afternoon, the whole night, and the next morning, before they discharged her. People went insane for a lot less.

A huge flower arrangement in bright yellow and orange hues poking through the door caught her attention, and she grinned as it was followed by the fair, slicked-up do of Detective Danny Williams.

"Hey you," she whispered. "Playing hooky?"

He smiled back. "No, just taking a long lunch."

"How very Hawaiian of you."

Danny chuckled, trying not to stare at her neck. The bruising was even more prominent this morning, having turned from purple to black. "These are for you," he said placing the flowers beside the heart monitor. "I didn't know which you liked, so I got you a little bit of everything. You're not allergic, right?"

"No," she wheezed, "and they're lovely, thank you. You shouldn't have."

He smiled, sat on the chair beside the bed. "It's a small token compared to what you've done for me, Reena."

She grinned, her heart warming. It was the first time he's used the diminutive of her name. "I was just doing my duty," she whispered.

Danny felt a strange moistness gather in his eyes at the heart this woman had shown the previous day. It had gone beyond the call of duty and they all knew it. "Every woman deserves flowers," he said, noticing his were the only ones in the room. "Am I the first to visit?"

She shook her head. "Kamekona was here earlier. He brought me a big cone of shaved ice, which is apparently good for my throat, Marc is coming by later with some reading material, and Rachel is bringing Grace around after school."

"They're not discharging you?" It was strange talking to her while she could only whisper back. He only hoped he didn't tire her too much.

"Nope." She settled more comfortably on the bed. "Apparently death caused by strangulation can occur up to 36 hours after the fact. They're being thorough, they say. I claim it's a conspiracy."

She started coughing and he knew he's outstayed his welcome. "I'll leave you to it, then. Take care of your voice, Reena."

He took her hand, kissed the back of it, and smiled in goodbye.


	28. Chapter 27: Ho'opa'apa'a

Sabrina pulled the collar of her T-shirt up from where it had fallen down her shoulder. She really should stop wearing this thing if she wanted to preserve it a little while longer. It was getting a bit stretched and soft from wear. But she craved the sense of contentment she felt whenever she put it on. She smiled sadly at the thought. I was the only tangible thing she had left, and she was slowly ruining it. Just like she'd ruined—

Her doorbell rang.

She looked up from the towels she was folding and took a peek at her phone. Her brother was early. Sure, he'd offered to bring her some groceries and share a pizza with her, but he still ought to be at the office at this time. She shook her head. Marc and his protective mode. She'd been uber-grouchy that morning when he'd picked her up from the hospital, yet he skipped work early to spend time with her...Make sure she was all right. Make sure, without a doubt, she wasn't somewhere shooting people.

The doorbell rang again, followed by three rapid knocks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Keep your pants on," she whispered as she walked to the door.

Maybe _she_ should put on a pair of pants instead of wearing just her cotton hipsters, she thought, glancing down her bare legs and feet. But it was her brother, and the T-shirt _was_ large, covering her to mid-thigh.

There was more knocking just as she reached for the doorknob. She rolled her eyes, yanked the door open...And the scathing retort died on her lips before she could utter it. Because it wasn't her brother on her doorstep.

It was Steve McGarrett.

Steve ran his gaze over her. From her mussed hair, wide-open eyes, slightly parted lips, down the bruised mess on her throat, over the plain, dark-blue T-shirt with a yellow emblem on the left side of the chest, down shapely bare legs to her also-bare feet, and back up. His eyes heated a little, when they brushed over the emblem on her shirt—the SEAL trident. The shirt had once been his. His gaze lingered on her throat a little longer, before he met her gaze.

"Can I come in? We need to talk."

Gotten over the initial shock at seeing him at her door, Reena quickly stepped to the side, letting him pass.

She skipped the three steps down from the door ahead of him, showed him to the sitting area. "Want a beer?"

Steve sat on an armchair, but shook his head. "No thanks, this shouldn't take long."

"Okay." She sat on her sofa, tucked her legs under her, carefully arranging the hem of the T-shirt so her panties would show. "What's up?"

He leaned forward, placed his forearms on his knees, entwined his fingers, and stared down at her carpet for a few moments, trying to ignore that enticing glimpse of thigh. "I want you off my team."

She felt her spine stiffen. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"No, I think I heard that you want me off the team."

He nodded.

"Look at me," she snapped. When he did, his eyes were bleak, and her tone softened. "Where is this coming from, Steve?"

"Where?" He laughed mirthlessly. "You have to ask? Just look at you!"

She lifted her hand to her throat. "It wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was. I'm the team leader."

She rolled her eyes. "So if Chin has an accident on his bike tomorrow it will also be your fault?"

"It's different."

"How is it different?" she rasped, her throat already hurting, but she wouldn't back down. "We're both part of your team. Are you telling me Chin isn't as important? He's been with the Five-0 longer than me."

It was different, because it had happened to her. But he couldn't tell her that. "It _did _happen on the job. I...We should've been there with you."

Reena sighed. Men and their stubborn protective streaks. "We've been through this at the hospital. You were doing your job. I was the only one available. If I had been with you, God knows what would've happened to the Edwardses." She coughed a little, swallowed to moisten her throat. "And you should pay no heed to what Marc said. He was being an ass."

"He was right."

She shook her head. "No, he wasn't." She pointed at her neck. "_This_ wasn't your fault. I knew what I was getting into, and I went anyway. It's what we do."

He shook his head, opened his mouth, but she interrupted him, "_I humbly serve as a guardian to my fellow Americans always ready to defend those who are unable to defend themselves. I do not advertise the nature of my work, nor seek recognition for my actions. I voluntarily accept the inherent hazards of my profession, placing the welfare and security of others before my own._" She smiled grimly. "You're welcome to correct me if I got anything wrong."

"You got it right," he admitted. "But it doesn't apply. You're not a SEAL."

"I'm an offspring of one," she rasped back. And I love one, she added mentally. "You could say it's in my blood."

"Your father was a SEAL?" This was the first time she'd ever talked about her father, beside that one time, at the beginning of their relationship, when she told him about the affair her mother had had with a married man, and adamantly refused to say anything else.

"Sperm donor, not father. And yes, he was a SEAL. So the ethos does apply."

"Sabrina—"

"_I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity. My Nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight._"

"That's enough, I get the picture." Steve sighed. "It's just that you—"

She shot to her feet. "I'm a woman? Is that it?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Woe to me. I'm a woman," she went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "A poor, pitiful creature that isn't as strong as the boys, can't run as fast as the boys, can't shoot as well as the boys, can't fight as well as the boys...How many times have I heard this spiel before. I kicked the shit out of bullies who said those things in school. I kicked the shit out of such bullies in training. I still kick the shit out of such bullies. I just never thought you'd be one of them."

He stood. "Sabrina—"

She glared up at him, hands akimbo, eyes blazing with anger. "I thought you knew me better than that. Instead you, too, see me as a defenseless, weak, fragile little woman who needs to be protected, needs to be told what to think, needs to be told what to do, because, God help me if I don't have a man around to guide me by my delicate, little hand." The only thing that ruined the incensed image she was going for was her wheezing voice that changed frequency and power with each word.

Steve was in her face instantly. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he growled. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Why does everything with you have to end up in an argument? I didn't come here to fight?"

"Could've fooled me?" She poked him in the chest. "You waltz in here, telling me you want me off _your_ team because I'm a woman—"

"It's not because you're a woman!" he roared.

"Why then?"

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you, you idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot!" she shot back.

"Because when I heard you were at the hospital, I thought I might never see you again." He made a choking sound, grabbed her shoulders, shook her. "I don't want you hurt, not on my watch."

She shook his hands off, glared. "I can take care of myself, Steve. I don't need you to watch my back."

"I know that!" he snarled. "That's what scares me. Because you're too damn independent. You're good and you know it. And you're stubborn. And I can't always be there...I can't—" _I can't lose you. Not again._

Instead of saying it aloud, he did the next best thing. He did what he's wanted to do ever since she showed up in his life again. He curved his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her up on her tiptoes, and took her mouth.


	29. Chapter 28: Kīkīao

**Author's note:** I love clich_é_s. ;)

* * *

><p>Steve felt Sabrina freeze against him and sanity slowly returned. What the hell was he doing? Kissing her while she was sleeping was one thing, but kissing her while they were both awake and aware...What the hell was he doing? The obvious answer was—kissing her. The real question was why. Another easy answer—because he wanted to. The biggest question—how will he get out of it with his pride intact and his true feelings hidden? Because she wasn't responding and he sure as hell didn't want to see her face when he moved away. It would probably be filled with pity—pity for the poor, love-struck fool that he was.<p>

Steve was about to move away and make a quick escape, when she circled his neck with her arms, tunneled her fingers into his hair, and plastered herself fully against him. Her lips parted on a sigh and he slipped the tip of his tongue just past them, a tiny taste. She growled impatiently, and he smiled against her lips. One hand supporting her head, the other curved snugly around her waist, he slid his tongue into her mouth, ran it along her teeth, brushed the roof of her mouth, twined it with hers in a sultry dance.

Reena saw stars as her tongue mated with his. After five years she was once again in Steve McGarrett's arms, molded to his muscular body, letting him kiss her...And what the hell was she doing? She should stop this insanity. She couldn't let him get any closer—though, to be honest, any closer and he'd be wearing her skin. She couldn't let this go any further. She should stop him. She _would_ stop him. Any minute now.

Then she felt the ridge of his erection against her stomach, and she melted. Literally. If it weren't for his strong arm around her waist, she would've ended up in a puddle on the floor.

She moaned, gathered the strength back into her legs, flexed her muscles, and, mouth firmly fused to his, jumped, locked her legs around his waist, tightened her grip around his neck, and simply went with the flow...

Steve felt his toes curl as she coiled herself around him. Damn, he'd forgotten just how hot she could make him. Impatient to get more of her, he moved his hand down her back, palmed her sweet butt, and rubbed her against his erection.

He growled as she moaned. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and she followed it. He placed a knee onto her couch and her thighs tightened around his hips. He lay her down and she arched her back in invitation, her tight nipples rubbing against his chest through both their shirts.

Lying on top of her, he ran his hand down her thigh, to the curve of her knee then back up, pushed the hem of the T-shirt up as he went, fingering the seam of her panties. He released her mouth, brushed his lips under the edge of her jaw, and licked a path to her ear.

Reena shuddered as she felt his teeth close gently around her earlobe. She went wild as he licked the soft spot just under her ear. He was doing everything right. Even after five years, he could play her like an instrument. When his finger dipped under the elastic band of her panties, every single thought evaporated.

She couldn't send him packing now if her life depended on it.

She ran her hands down his muscular back and pulled the hem of his polo shirt out of his cargos. She needed to feel his skin under her arms, she needed to brush her fingers over it, she needed to taste it.

Steve reared back, yanked the shirt off his head and took a moment to look down at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes languid with passion, her lips slightly swollen, her cheeks reddened from his stubble. He's never seen a more beautiful woman. She smiled up at him in invitation, and he mirrored it with his own.

That T-shirt had always looked better on her, he mused as he circled her cotton-encased left nipple with his finger. She moaned, arched her back in invitation, and he cupped both her breasts through the thin material.

Then, with a hiss, she lifted her upper body off the couch and ran her tongue up the valley between his pectorals, and he decided he was done playing. He grasped her head between his palms, captured her mouth and pushed her down onto the sofa again.

Time seemed to slow down between sighs and moans, kisses and nibbles, soft touches and heavy caresses...

Sabrina's entire body was vibrating. His mouth was buried against her neck, and he was cupping her naked breasts under her T-shirt, while she rode his knee, fumbling with his zipper.

Someone was screaming inside her head, telling her she should not be doing this, and there was a strange ringing in her ears, but she couldn't give a crap. She was lying on her couch, in the middle of a heavy make-out session—that was about to turn into something much wilder, much hotter—with Steve McGarrett, the man she loved more than life itself, and she wasn't about to stop. She probably couldn't stop even if that Yakuza what-was-his-name suddenly barged through her door.

Only it wasn't Wo Fat that came barging through her door. It was Marcus Hawthorne.

"Didn't you hear the bell?" he asked, still having to look up from the grocery bags. "Your door was unlocked, did you—Oh."

There were some things in life a man shouldn't see. Catching his sister lying under a half-naked man, his hands under her shirt, her hands on his crotch, was one of those things. It trumped all others at the moment, at least as far as Marcus Hawthorne was concerned.

He quickly averted his eyes, wishing he'd lingered at the supermarket a little longer. But then, God only knew what he would've walked in on.

"Uhm...I'll just...Put these in the kitchen."

Steve was on his feet in a heartbeat. His shirt was back on and his pants fastened in record time, while he mentally kicked himself, refusing to meet her eyes. When he had himself sufficiently under control, her looked up from the pattern on her rug. Her eyes were carefully blank, no sign of passion on her face.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, angry at himself for kissing her, for feeling all these stupid emotions, pissed off at her for simply sitting there, looking at him like nothing's happened. "I can't believe you."

She was so busy screaming at herself in her mind, Reena almost missed his last words. When they finally registered, he's already slammed her front door behind him.

Marc poked his head out of the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, Reen, I—"

She lifted a finger to shut him up. "Be right back," she rasped, and stalked after Steve.

She caught him at the curb and grabbed his arm. "Where do you get off?" she snarled hoarsely. "You can't believe _me_? It wasn't me, that started it, buddy."

Anger churning in his stomach, he glared at her. "No, it was me, but you were there, with me."

"Heat of the moment." It was such a load of crap.

Steve scoffed. "And giving Hawthorne a taste of his own medicine had nothing to do with it."

"What are you talking about?"

"The guy's a cheater, Sabrina!" he snarled.

"I repeat, what are you talking about?"

He sighed. Did she really not know or was she just playing dumb? "He was seeing my sister a few months back. She broke it off when she saw you two together."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all you can say?" He shook his head. "You're not stupid and you're not blind. You must've known. How can you stay with him?"

"You're the one to talk. What about _your _girlfriend, huh? What about Catherine?"

"We're talking about you and Hawthorne. Tell me, is he the reason you broke it off five years ago?"

"It's not what you think," she whispered. She was tired of accusations, she was tired of lying, but she couldn't tell the truth.

A growl of thunder from above caught his attention and Steve looked up into the dark sky, where the stars hid behind low-hanging clouds. He felt like there was a vise around his heart, but he had to ask. "Do you love him?"

"Yes."

When she wanted, she could make her eyes go completely blank, hiding whatever was going on inside her mind, but this time her eyes weren't blank. And he knew she was telling the truth.

"More than you loved me?"

She looked away. "It's different."

And Steve felt something inside him die. The same thing that had died five years ago, but had somehow been brought to life by her reappearance. He felt it die. "No, I don't think it's different," he said coldly. "I think it's the same. Only it isn't love. Not with you. You don't even know what love is."

With one last icy look, he turned, walked to his truck, and sped away, just as the sky opened up, leaving her standing in her driveway, the rain mixing with her tears.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> The barging-in was timely, trust me. The two idiots would not have talked. They would've acted...And felt like crap afterward.


	30. Chapter 29: Ho'oku'i ā puhi

Marc shook his head sadly when Sabrina reentered her house. Her eyes were blank, her face impassive. The wall was back up. She was blocking everything from getting out and everything—and everyone—from getting in.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked, keeping his tone light, though he knew she'd refuse dinner. "I have a craving for pasta."

"You go ahead," she whispered, even that soft tone cold and detached. "I'm not hungry. I know why Mary broke it off. She thought you were cheating on her with me." A blink. "I'm sorry. After this is done, I'll talk to her. Tell her there's nothing between us."

"Or you could tell everyone the truth."

She shook her head, her expression didn't change. "No. We've been through this. Your career would be over."

"You don't know that."

"An illegitimate sister. Yeah, they'll elect you president."

She went into her bedroom, took her Five-0 badge out of her top drawer, returned to the kitchen. "And my line of work doesn't allow for attachments. You saw what happened when I had a boyfriend. Imagine what would happen if I suddenly got a brother." She placed the badge on the counter between them. "Consider this my resignation."

He stared down at the badge, looked up at her, shook his head. "No."

"I'll finish this, then I'll go. No one will clamor for the truth when I'm gone."

He shook his head. "No. You know what I think? I think you have a perfectly selfish reason not to tell the truth."

"Enlighten me."

"If you actually told him the truth, you wouldn't be able to mope around feeling sorry for yourself and the crappy hand you've been dealt." He scowled. "I think you like feeling sorry for yourself."

Her eyes turned to ice and he knew he overdid it.

She turned and calmly walked away. "Let yourself out. Goodnight, Marcus."

.

Two hours later she sat in the dark, the weather mirroring her mood, as the rain still pelted the window of her den. And she hasn't done anything yet. Just sat there, trying hard not to think. Because if she thought she'd break down, and she didn't have time to break down, have a nice, long cry, huddle in a corner and feel sorry for herself. She had a job to finish.

Yet, she hasn't done anything toward that goal.

She sighed, stood, and went into the kitchen. Marc had left right after she'd locked herself in the den. Without a word. Better that way. He had said more than enough. Though she had to admit he'd been partially right in his observation. She _had_ a selfish reason not to tell Steve the truth. Simply, she was a coward. When it came to Steve McGarrett and her feelings for him, she was a coward. It was better to simply ignore those feelings, ignore him, put on an impenetrable mask, and let him think whatever he wanted.

She quickly threw together a plate of pasta and took it into the living room. She sat down on her couch, where mere two hours ago, she had lain under Steve McGarrett's hard body, and ate her dinner in blessed silence with only the rain sliding down the floor-to-ceiling windows for company.

_His hand fisted in her hair as their breaths and tongues met..._

Reena flinched, blinked to keep tears at bay. She wouldn't break down.

She stood, carried her empty plate back into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She knew that if she attempted to sleep now, the tight rein she kept on her thoughts would loosen and memories, emotions would intrude. She hoped the cup of warm tea would relax her enough to put her to sleep without breaking her mental hold.

She sat back on the sofa, holding the cup between her chilled hands, looked out into the dark, rainy night.

_One last nibble on her earlobe and he reared back, yanked his shirt off over his head, and looked down at her with eyes blazing with hunger._

She shuddered, took a sip of tea. She wouldn't break down. She _wouldn't_! She couldn't afford the luxury of doing so.

_His strong hands cupped her cheeks as he took her mouth in a kiss that melted her insides._

With shaking hands she placed the cup on the coffee table, lay on the sofa, hugged her knees, and let herself remember.

_"You don't even know what love is."_

The dam broke. Tears streaming down her cheeks, choking sobs shaking her body, Sabrina Logan let herself be weak for a while.

.

.

_McGarrett home_

Steve stood in his kitchen, looking at his reflection in the rain-streaked windowpane, his conscience raked by guilt, his heart filled with regrets.

He didn't regret kissing her. How could he? It had been amazing, passionate, sweet, sexy, hot...Until Marcus Hawthorne had walked in on them.

He scowled at his reflection.

The guy really had a knack for timing, for barging in—literally and not—to rain on Steve's parade, to ruin his life.

One of the regrets was that he hadn't planted a fist into Hawthorne's face. For what he'd done to his sister, but mostly for what he'd done to him and what he was still doing to Sabrina. Though the man's reaction had been rather strange for someone who's walked in on his girlfriend with another man. Was the guy really that cold, that twisted? Or had he somehow seen the scene on the couch as some sort of deserved payback?

Not important.

What was important, his biggest regret, was what he'd said to Sabrina in the end. The words would forever be seared into his mind.

_"You don't even know what love is."_

He winced as the echo still reverberated in his ears. She had hurt him, whether she wanted to or not, she'd hurt him and he had forgotten all his training, tossed the cool, detached, unemotional SEAL through the proverbial window, and had lashed out like a wounded animal. She might not love him, not anymore, but that didn't give him the right to say what he'd said.

He'd regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but couldn't take them back. So he'd fled, unable to look into her eyes and see the pain—or, even worse, the utter impassiveness. He couldn't say which would've been worse.

And now, here he stood, looking at his reflection in the window, filled with regrets, trying to come up with a way to apologize. He would have to face her tomorrow and he dreaded the confrontation. Apologizing wasn't exactly in his nature, so he'll have to improvise, though he had no idea what to say, how to get back into her good graces, because if Sabrina was anything, she was proud, stubborn, and could hold a grudge with the best of them.

He thought about calling Mary and ask for advice, then decided against it. She'd just call him a proud idiot and he didn't need her input to know that.

Steve rubbed his hands over his eyes, down the stubble on his chin. He looked at his reflection a moment longer, then went into his living room, and collapsed onto his sofa. He closed his eyes and remembered, a collage of memories, those of five years prior and those of the past few weeks mixing together. The happiness and sorrow, the passion, the laughter, the arguments, the kisses and lovemaking...The heartbreak.

And when sleep finally took him, his rest was haunted by large gray eyes, just as, across the city, a woman's rest was haunted by a pair of blue ones, as the rain cleansed the atmosphere, readying it for a new, sunny morning.


	31. Chapter 30: 'Oki

Steve was late entering the task force's headquarters the next morning. He wouldn't admit it if his life depended on it, but he'd taken a bit more care with his appearance before leaving his house. Instead of his usual boots, cargos and polo shirt, he wore regular shoes, black jeans, and a light-blue shirt. He'd also shaved twice, so the usual scruff had yet to make an appearance. He wanted to be a little more presentable than usual as he apologized to Sabrina.

Danny lifted his eyebrows at the sight of his partner arriving late and not wearing his usual 'uniform', but decided not to comment, since Steve appeared rather jittery. God only knew what he was capable of doing if Danny rattled him some more. He carefully peered into the hallway, half-expecting Sabrina to come in after Steve. They were both late this morning, and usually that only meant one thing—that they'd spent the night together.

Though that seemed highly improbable to Danny, since the two have apparently not yet solved whatever issues there were between them...But one never knew. Heat of the moment, and all that jazz.

But Sabrina was still a no-show, and Steve's frown as he noticed his empty office, told more than a hundred words. Something had happened, something that has spurred him into grooming himself in the morning, but they haven't spent the night together.

So where was she? When Danny had visited her at the hospital she'd been climbing walls, itching to come back to work. She'd been released yesterday, yet there was no sign of her. Intriguing, most intriguing, Danny mused.

Steve looked from his office to Danny. "Where's Sabrina?"

Danny shrugged. "She hasn't showed up yet."

Chin and Kono also haven't seen her. She was unusually late.

"She won't come in," Marcus Hawthorne supplied from the hallway.

Now there was a man who apparently had no problems in looking 'spiffy', Steve thought with a mental snarl. Hawthorne wore that suit as if he'd been born with it, and there had barely been a shadow on his chin the previous evening...And Steve certainly didn't want to think of just why he knew that detail.

Marc walked to McGarrett and pressed Sabrina's badge into his chest, forcing the man to take it. "She's no longer affiliated with your team."

"What did you do?" Steve growled softly, dangerously.

Marc shook his head. "Oh, no. The question you should be asking is what did _you_ do, McGarrett."

Danny looked at Steve. Very intriguing.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Marc continued. "I need to go be a governor." And make sure his sister didn't get herself into any more trouble. Which was easier said than done, he mused as he stalked out of the Five-0 headquarters a bit disappointed with himself for not having slugged Steve McGarrett for hurting his sister.

When the governor was gone, Steve turned to Danny and Danny rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I have an idea, Steven. Why don't we take my car?"

That earned him a glare and he sighed. "Too much sarcasm? I don't think so. Not enough, not nearly enough. Hey, wait up!"

.

.

_Sabrina Logan's rental home_

She had her phone on speaker, hacking into the IA database—which gave her all kinds of pleasure—when her doorbell rang.

"Hold on, Ed," she told her buddy at Langley. "I'll be right back."

She glanced at the clock on her computer, wondering who her late-morning visitor might be. It might be Marc, he'd called earlier, inviting her to lunch—probably in apology, but she had to eat. So, as precaution, she tucked her SIG in the back of her leggings.

But there were no bad guys at her door, only Steve, looking his usual grim, scowly self, and Danny, looking sheepish and apologetic.

"Hey," Danny greeted, perusing the slender form in front of him. She was dressed head-to-toe in black, from the black headband keeping her hair away from her face, black top, black leggings, and black flats. Even the bruises on her throat had turned black, adding to the overall ensemble. Her expression was blank, her eyes cold and icy, reflecting the images around her.

Danny wondered what had happened to make her retreat behind the cold façade.

"Can I help you?" she asked, satisfied her voice had lost its raspy quality, returning almost to normal.

His intentions of apologizing forgotten since Marcus Hawthorne's visit, Steve pulled her badge from his pocket. "What is this?"

Reena cocked her head. "It appears to be a badge."

"_Your_ badge."

"Oh, okay."

"What was it doing in Hawthorne's possession this morning?"

Danny chose to remain a silent observant. The way Steve was growling and Sabrina was getting colder by the second, things might start flying any moment. It was best to remain on the sidelines.

"I tended my resignation last night," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because you wanted me off your team." A slow blink. "I'm off your team."

Danny looked at Steve. He wanted Sabrina off their team? Was he kidding? Or was he trying to protect her, made a muck of things, and she took it too literally? He would have to go with the latter. But he wasn't offering suggestions.

Reena looked from Steve to Danny and back. "If that's all you came here for, you'll have to excuse me, I have work to do."

Steve was starting to hate that detached tone. "You're still working on my father's case?"

"Yes. It's the reason the governor had me join your team in the first place. And don't worry, Commander McGarrett, he still wants this case solved. ASAP. I'm sure he'll keep you appraised of things, since not being a member of your team anymore, I am not a liberty of divulging any classified information. Good day, gentlemen."

And Reena closed the door in their faces with a strange feeling of satisfaction. Maybe it was a little petty, but it felt good to have the last word.

And it was good to be able to keep her distance. He's done her a great favor last night. She's lost her perspective in the last month, lost the focus on her prerogative. She needed to finish the mission, get to the bottom of the case, and keep him alive to tell the tale. The ice-age-like atmosphere between them would only make it easier for her to leave after all was said and done. Let him go on with his life without any more interruptions, without any more ghosts from the past.

She sighed, wiped at the stray tear on her cheek, and went back into her den. She had a mission to complete.


	32. Chapter 31: Mikiona

Reena returned from the lunch date with her brother completely exhausted. She'd just sat there and ate, but she felt like she'd gone one round too many with the MMA world champ. As she'd suspected he would, Marc had apologized for what he'd said the previous evening. Then he'd tried to make her reconsider leaving after the case was closed, tried to convince her to tell the truth, no matter the repercussions.

So she'd told him, not mincing words, that she'd be damned before she put him in danger of someone using him as collateral or ruin his career only so he'd get his girlfriend back.

Then he'd been adamant at coming up with a story, any story, as long as she stayed in Hawaii, and she felt drained.

Besides, there was nothing here for her—except him, that is—but she could always visit. She had a job in Washington, she had an apartment in D.C. She had a life in D.C. Only one person could make her change her mind, and he wasn't available.

So she'd leave as soon as the case was closed, leave as quietly as she's come to the islands.

And since she wanted to do that as quickly as possible, she needed to step up her game in trying to locate Wo Fat. He was the only one still living that could shed light on what governor Pat Jameson had been involved in and whether the investigation into her dealings was what got Steve's father killed. And which investigation had gotten his mother killed.

Pity, he was holed up so well, no one seemed to know where he was. And those who knew were too scared to talk—not that she could find one of those, either. Ed had been unsuccessful, so had been her other contacts. The only thing she could confirm was the fact the guy was actually in Hawaii.

She had an inkling on how to find him, though. The only problem was, she had still to sort through the info in the IA database. Those cockroaches needed a system administrator, and they needed one badly. How could they find anything in that mess, was beyond her. How they could actually make any cases, and make them stick, was nothing less than a miracle.

If her own computer was that disorganized...Reena shuddered at the mere thought.

She peeked into her den where her computer hummed merrily as it searched the data and sorted it according to the percentage of 'compatibility' with her comprehensive search string.

She was sure Vincent Fryer hadn't handed over all the information on Frank Delano and his cronies. So she was searching for info on the Delano investigation. She could bet the dirty cops knew where Wo Fat was and that Fryer knew more about Delano's hideouts than he let on. It was just a matter of time before she found the right file, then...Show time.

For the first time in more than a day, Reena smiled.

.

.

_Diamond Head, Honolulu, 10 p.m._

A black VW Beetle, its top down, stopped in front of the wrought-iron gate of a luscious estate in one of Honolulu's poshest neighborhoods. The armed guard at the gate approached the car, his gaze running appreciatively over what he could see of the driver.

Shoulder-length dark hair curled away from a heart-shaped face with large, sultry-looking eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and luscious lips. A thin scarf was tied around her neck, slightly covering the generous cleavage, revealed by the black, spaghetti-strapped dress.

"_Hola_," she greeted in a throaty voice that made him think of hot nights, satin sheets, and sweaty sex, and extended her hand, a white sheet of paper between her index and middle finger.

He nodded to his colleague manning the gate. He didn't need to check the list—there was no list—the invitations were custom made and only people who were meant to get them received one. "Enjoy your evening," he wished with one last longing glance.

"_Gracias_." And she was off, through the gate toward the small mansion.

Once arrived in front of the house, she thanked the valet who helped her out of the car, moved her clutch into her left hand, and offered her right to the aging butler manning the front door as he escorted her inside the house.

"_Dios mio_, what a lovely house," she said, her Spanish accent giving the words an added melodic cadence. "Reminds me of my _abuela_'s _hacienda_ near Buenos Aires."

The butler merely nodded, excused himself, and returned to his post, leaving her to mingle.

She played with the ends of her scarf, wiggled her hips to the salsa beat flooding the large, open-space ground floor of the mansion. She picked a glass filled with a pink concoction off a tray, sniffed, thought better of it, and placed it back on the tray.

"Drink not to your liking?"

She whirled and smiled at the man who'd spoken. "Not really. Too girly." Also spiked with something beside alcohol. "I prefer something with more kick."

"Ah, my kind of girl." His veiled eyes narrowed slightly. "I like your accent. Mexico?"

"Argentina." She extended her hand. "Angélica Castillo Vazquez."

His fingers engulfed hers. "Frank Delano." He held her hand a little longer than norm, his gaze running up and down her body with open appreciation. "Do you salsa?"

"It's in my _sangre_."

"Your blood huh?" Still holding her hand, he spun her around, pressed her back to his front. "Show me," he whispered in her ear.

She rolled her hips, felt his instant reaction, smiled, whirled away, faced him, and crooked her finger. "Let's dance,_ señor_ Delano."

He sneaked a hand around her waist, pulled her to him. "Call me Frank."

.

Frank Delano felt like his dick might explode if he didn't get it inside the little tease in his arms soon. It didn't matter where, her mouth, her pussy, her ass, as long as he got it in. The little bitch wouldn't mind which hole he plugged first. She was as hot as he was, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat.

He cupped her breast and she playfully slapped his hand away. He growled and she pouted.

"I'm not into public displays, Frank," she purred. "If you want me, you'll get me, but alone."

He pulled her lower body closer to his, rubbing her against his cock. He was so hard, he could hammer nails. "Oh, I want you, beautiful. I want you in all the possible ways. And you'll take me in all the possible ways."

Her eyes dilated and he grinned. She rubbed herself against him some more and her groaned. He saw goose-bumps raise on the skin of her shoulders and he growled. He's had enough foreplay, he needed to fuck.

"Let's get out of here," he growled into her hair, licking the shell of her ear.

"_Sì, por favor. Quiero ser tuya__._"

Damn, that voice, so sultry, so inviting. And when she spoke in her native language. God, she was hot as hell. He grabbed her arm and almost dragged her upstairs, so eager he was to ram himself inside her. He opened the master suite's door, but she suddenly stopped.

She looked at the guard at the end of the hall watching them with envy.

"Do you want him to join us?" he asked, already thinking logistics, but she shook her head.

"I don't want him to listen. Can you get rid of him?"

Frank was getting impatient. "He's at the end of the hall. What can he hear from there?"

"I'm a screamer," she murmured and his dick got even harder. "I won't be able to enjoy it so much, if I know he's listening."

He could easily drag her inside the room and make her enjoy it, but Frank wasn't one of those men who took their pleasure and didn't care about the woman they were with. He prided himself on being quite a connoisseur of bed play and that included giving his bed partner pleasure as well as him receiving in. If she said she wouldn't be able to enjoy fucking as much with the guy pressing his ear to the door—which he was planning to do, judging by the lustful look in his eyes—Frank would make sure the distraction disappeared.

He left Angélica at the door, walked down the hallway, and quietly dismissed the guard, adding just enough threat to his voice and death to his eyes, that the guy wouldn't dream of attempting anything.

When he returned, her brilliant smile was a small reward for his accomplishment, the invitation in her eyes promising something more substantial and infinitely more carnal when the door was closed behind them.

Frank leaned forward to kiss her, but she giggled, and danced out of his arms into the bedroom. Narrowing his eyes, he followed, but when he entered the room, there was no sign of her. Then, he heard the door close softly behind him, heard the faint click of the key turning in the lock, and he grinned.

The grin disappeared, when he turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

She smiled icily at the complete change in his expression. Anger, speculation, and a pinch of fear replaced lust. She shuddered slightly at the memory of his hands on her. She couldn't wait to get home and wash all traces of him off her skin.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Frank asked, his mind racing. The music at the lower floor was too loud for anyone to hear them, he's dismissed the guard in the hallway—stupid of him to fall for a phony bitch—so the only option was going for his gun.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, but of course the idiot didn't listen.

Five seconds later Frank Delano found himself lying on the carpet, his nose bleeding, his wrist broken, and his dignity gone. She's disarmed him before he could blink, the bitch has even taken his backup from his ankle-holster, and then punched him in the nose with a force that belied that slender frame.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled.

"That's none of your business, Frank. It's what I want that's important."

He scowled at her lack of accent. "And what is that?"

"Information."

"I'm not telling you shit."

Reena smiled again. All teeth, no warmth. "I wish you didn't say that."

.

Ten minutes later, Frank Delano was still on the floor, covered in sweat, occasional nervous twitches shaking his body, the front of his pants wet. He wanted to tell the bitch to go to hell, curse her and her family, but couldn't muster enough strength to do it. He was wiped out. He had no idea what she's done to him, not exactly. All he knew was that he'd answered all her questions, told her what he knew, and had been about to beg, when she stopped, straightened, and left him there, lying in his own piss, while she went to the adjacent bathroom.

That was the perfect opportunity for escape, but his sight was blurry and he was shaking so much, he could do nothing but to lay there, waiting for the bitch to come back and do whatever she wanted with him.

Reena slowly stood, flushed the toilet, washed her mouth, and checked her makeup. The shakes have stopped, thank God. Frank Delano was scum, but that hadn't lessened the impact of what she had to do in order to obtain information.

And now it was time to make her exit. She fixed her scarf, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and returned to the bedroom. He was still lying on the carpet, reeking of urine and sweat and her stomach rolled slightly.

"Thank you, Mr. Delano. It had been very enlightening talking to you."

He narrowed his eyes, but kept quiet, conserving his strength.

Reena nodded, pulled a card from her cleavage. "Tell him to call this number when he's ready. Good night, Mr. Delano."

And she unlocked the door, closed it softly behind her, and leisurely walked downstairs and out of the house. She collected her car, drove through the gate, waving at the guard who'd let her in, and punched the gas pedal when she hit the main road, letting the breeze soothe her feverish skin.

It was done.

Now the ball was in Wo Fat's court.


	33. Chapter 32: Ho'okolokolo

**Author's Note:** Well…When I started this story I had no idea it would turn out the way it did. I envisioned a short story with a quick (and happy) resolution. Who would've thought I'd end up with this 'monstrosity' featuring a heroine with _issues_, a bit of a let's-save-the-world complex and absolutely no regard for her own safety, and, of course, a stubborn streak a mile wide that obscures her vision as to what she should be doing (like telling the truth).

So, I'm sorry, if some of you feel this is taking too long. It was never my intention to drag it this long (and longer still). That's what happens when I start writing with just a clear beginning and end—the middle sort of writes itself and I'm just sort of along for the ride. But I love this story to bits, and wouldn't change it for the world, so there you have it. Either you stick with it until the bitter end, or you call it quits. I won't hold it against you, either way. ;)

* * *

><p>The sun was already high in the sky when the ringing of her phone rudely woke her. Groggy and her mouth tasting like something had died in it, Reena peered at the caller ID.<p>

"This better be good," she muttered in lieu of a greeting.

"You're expected at the U.S. Attorney's office at one," Marc replied. "And get your game-face on, Sabrina."

At the sound of the dial tone, Reena pulled the phone away from her ear and scowled at the call-disconnected sign on the screen, then checked the clock. Her eyes widened. It was past noon.

"Okay, girl," she murmured encouragingly. "Up you go."

.

.

_PJKK Federal Building, 300 Ala Moana Blvd., Honolulu, 12.58 p.m._

AUSA Deacon Rutherford tapped his pen softly against his desk, looking from governor Marcus Hawthorne who lounged easily in a chair in front of his desk, to his task force standing behind him, with their leader, Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett looking formidable and intimidating with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging, and finally to Captain Vincent Fryer standing beside his desk, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Rutherford glanced at his watch—one minute to one. Apparently Special Agent Sabrina Logan, despite being a super-woman, at least according to rumor, was still a woman—hence late.

A martial click of heels could be heard from outside, getting closer. The sound stopped, was followed by soft whispers, and then the beep of his intercom.

"Yes, Agnes?" Rutherford answered.

"Special Agent Logan is here, sir," his secretary replied.

Rutherford glanced again at his watch. One o'clock on the dot. "Let her in."

"Yes, sir."

The clicking of heels resumed, stopped, there was a perfunctory knock on his door, and without waiting for his reply, the door swung open, and AUSA Deacon Rutherford got his first live glimpse of Special Agent Sabrina Logan.

What hit him first, was the black. Head-to-toe black. She wore a black, sleeveless turtleneck, black pencil skirt, falling to just below her knees, and black, metallic-stiletto-heeled, knee-high boots. She looked sexy, inviting, dangerous, and detached at the same time.

What hit him next, was the icy look in her eyes. It felt like the temperature in the room's dropped a couple of degrees at the impact of those eyes. They were cold and calm, giving the impression nothing could ever ruffle this woman's feathers. And if someone was stupid enough to try, she'd dispose of him quickly, quietly, and efficiently.

As she approached his desk, the click of her heels muffled by the carpet, those eyes brushed slightly over the Five-0 team, the governor, Vincent Fryer, then settled on him as she stopped a few paces behind the other free chair. There was plenty of space around her, her pose relaxed, arms by her sides, though Rutherford, having seen his fair share of government-trained agents and those otherwise-trained, knew she could erupt into action at the blink of an eye.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Rutherford," she said and he felt a chill run down his spine. The sound was slightly raspy, as if she's only recently rolled out of bed, carrying equal amounts of self-assurance, competence, and defiance.

"I did, Ms. Logan."

"Special Agent Logan," she corrected him, her expression never wavering from its blank mask.

Rutherford thought he heard the governor snicker, but when he looked at Marcus Hawthorne his expression was as neutral as ever.

"Special Agent Logan," he said, a little annoyed, "an alarming detail has come to my attention this morning."

She was silent, waiting for him to continue, not giving an inch.

"There had already been an interference into an ongoing IA investigation by the Five-0 task force, but last night, a member of the aforementioned task force had approached Frank Delano personally, severely jeopardizing the investigation of Delano's crime network."

Adopting a slightly bored expression, her eyes still icy, Sabrina Logan spoke, "Let me guess, the person who brought this 'alarming detail' to your attention was Captain Vincent Fryer, right. Well, Vince here isn't exactly a fan of mine ever since he literally told the President to fuck himself. I'm not making this up, I have witnesses."

Rutherford glared at Fryer.

"As far as the 'interference' goes," she continued, "the double-homicide was part of a Five-0 investigation. The task force apprehended the two culprits, they were never pressed for any information about Delano and his network, and they were killed in a prison fight. I don't see how the IA investigation could've been compromised."

"Fine," Rutherford interrupted. "Let's get back to last night, then."

She nodded. "Let's do that. Tell me, who was the Five-0 member that approached Frank Delano?"

"You."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Rutherford, but Vince here gave you an erroneous report."

Rutherford pulled a surveillance photo from a manila folder and placed it on his desk, facing her. "Captain Fryer has proof."

She glanced at the photo. "Good for him. By erroneous report I meant the Five-0 task force member part."

"What do you mean?"

"As of two days ago I'm no longer part of the task force. I gave my resignation to the governor, he accepted it."

Rutherford glanced at Marcus Hawthorne, felt sweat gather on his forehead when the governor nodded, then glared at Sabrina Logan as she continued, "Since I'm no longer affiliated with the task force, you can let them go back to their job, fight crime, which you should also be doing, instead of listening to disgruntled little turds who just love holding grudges."

"Now, hold on just a minute," Fryer sputtered.

Reena stopped him with a venomous look. "Shut up, Vince. We both know you have shit on Delano and what you do have will never stick. You just love to feel important and I'm starting to suspect you also love the sound of your own voice. So why don't you do us all a favor and crawl back into your stinky little cubicle to watch pornos."

He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him. "Before you say anything else, you might want to remember who I used to work for. I know your browsing history in minute detail."

Fryer went from purple to green and back, sputtered, glared at her, glared at Rutherford, glared at the Five-0s, and with one last venomous look at her, rushed out of the office.

Rutherford looked at her archly. "I won't even ask, but the fact remains you _did_ approach Frank Delano, interfering with the IA investigation—one that might stick or not."

She cocked her head. "My visit to Delano had nothing to do with him or the IA investigation. I was looking for one of Delano's contacts, someone outside of his little crime network."

She could feel Steve's intense gaze on her, but she didn't meet his eyes.

"And who might that be?" Rutherford asked.

"A person of interest in an ongoing DHS investigation, one that's been ongoing longer than Fryer's."

"You have proof?"

"More than enough for the U.S. Attorney to build her case, more than enough for the case to stick."

Rutherford could envision his future if he nabbed the case. "I want to see what you have so far."

Reena let the corners of her lips curl ever so slightly. "Sorry, Mr. Rutherford, but that's way beyond your pay grade."

His mouth opened and closed, making him look like a bewildered fish, but he didn't make a sound.

Reena nodded. "I'm glad you understand. Now, if that's all, I'll bid you farewell." Her gaze narrowed, chilled. "And for future reference, I don't like to be summoned for something so trivial as Vince Fryer and his petty grudges. Are we clear?"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned, walked away, and as soon as she left the office, and stepped on the hardwood floor, the martial rhythm of her heels sounded again.

.

Steve caught up with her before she could leave the building, Marc, Danny, Chin and Kono fast on his heels.

"You found Wo Fat?" Steve asked, grasping her elbow to stop her.

She looked down at where he gripped her arm, then up at him. "No."

"You said Delano knows where he is."

"No, he doesn't."

Steve gritted his teeth at the neutral tone, her vacant expression. He preferred her when she was spitting mad, when she was sarcastic, snarky...Anything was better than this blankness. And he knew it was all his fault.

He ran his hand down her forearm, circled her wrist. "We need to talk." And before she could object, before _anyone_ could object, least of all Hawthorne, who—oddly—just stood there with a small smile on his lips, he dragged her after him, fighting a grin at the sound of her heels that told him she had no problems keeping up despite his long strides.


	34. Chapter 33: Ho'omaka

"Okay, talk to me," he said as they sat at a small table in a nearby café.

"There's nothing to say."

Steve hung his head a little, sighed. So he would go first. "I'm sorry."

Reena just stared at him, at the emotions warring in his eyes, at the rather dejected set of his shoulders. Here was a man utterly unused to saying he was sorry, unaccustomed to apologizing, because it went against his nature and because he seldom had things to apologize for, yet there he sat, in front of her, telling her he was sorry, when it was her that had so much to apologize for.

"It's okay."

He shook his head. "No. No, it isn't." He looked at her. "It isn't, Reen."

She felt the icy armor around her heart, the wall she'd hastily erected two nights ago, melt at the shortened name, at the sound of his voice, at the look in his eyes.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. He wasn't sorry for kissing her, he wasn't sorry for almost making love to her, he wasn't sorry for loving her, despite all the pain that love has brought him. "What I said." He still felt slightly sick when he remembered his words. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it, I _don't_ mean it. It's just that—" _I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me._

"It's okay, Steve," she said softly. "I understand."

"No, you don't."

"Yes." She smiled slightly. "It was some sort of payback."

He shook his head again, but she placed her hand on top of his. "I deserved it. I accept it. And I accept your apology."

He wanted to kiss her again. So badly, he ached. "I was out of line, Reen."

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter now. It never mattered." She looked away, knowing her emotions were right there for the whole world—and especially him—to see. When she was composed again, she looked back at him. "I'm just glad we won't part with you angry at me."

"Part?"

She nodded. "When we get Wo Fat, I'll leave."

"Why?"

Reena shrugged. "It's for the best. There's too much...Between us, I mean. It's just a matter of time when something like this happens again."

Steve shook his head, but knew she was right. Until they resolved the issue of the past, until she finally told him the truth, there would always be conflict between them, he'd always strike out in pain. And since she wasn't telling...

"We both know I can't stay. No, I could," she amended, "but we both know I shouldn't." _Not unless I told the truth and watch you look at me with pity._

Steve swallowed his objections, swallowed the words 'I love you', and focused on the other matter at hand. "So, what have you found out about Wo Fat?"

Reena looked at him gratefully. "Delano occasionally lends a helping hand, but doesn't know where he is, doesn't even know how to get in touch." She met his gaze squarely, as she lied, "He's a dead end."

Steve sighed, not quite convinced. Her eyes were carefully blank, a sign she was hiding something, but he couldn't be sure, she was lying. Just as he wanted to probe for more, his phone rang.

It was Danny. A car has just turned up, registered to a man whose family had reported him missing.

The short one-sided conversation was enough for Reena to discern the gist and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the timely stop to the brewing interrogation. "Go," she told him. "If there's news you'll be the first to know."

Steve had his qualms about that, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. He owed her that much, and he had a job to go back to. "I better be," he warned and left without another word.

Reena feasted her eyes on his retreating form, regrets flitting through her mind, but it wasn't time to think of her woes or cry over lost opportunities. She's made her bed and she had to sleep in it. Alone.

She leaned back in her chair, ready to plot her next move, when her own phone chirped merrily. She answered without checking the caller ID, "Logan."

"Ah, Special Agent Logan, it's been a while," a cultured voice sounded in her ear.

Reena's blood chilled and a cold sweat beaded her brow. She could hear the echo of her heartbeat in her head and her breath left her lungs in short gasps.

"I see you recognize my voice," Wo Fat continued, complacently. "I was afraid you might have forgotten the sound of it, but your training wouldn't allow for that to happen."

_"Navy SEAL is a dangerous calling. Very prone to accidents. I'd be careful, if I were you, agent Logan."_ The ghostly voice from the past rose from the recesses of her mind, making her flinch. It had been him. It had been Wo Fat all along.

"What is it, agent Logan?" he asked mockingly. "Fresh out of bravado? No threats? No promises of retribution?"

Reena finally found her voice. "What do you want?"

"I could say 'What I've always wanted'. As in that program you'd developed. But I won't insult your intelligence with a lie." There was a pause, then, his voice, low with hatred, returned. "I want you to pay for what you did to Jelena."

"Come and get me," she growled.

He laughed. "Now that's the Sabrina Logan I remember. I just might do that."

Good. Let him come after her. As long as he left Steve alone.

"On the other hand, I just might get my revenge the other way," he said, squelching the tiny sliver of hope. "Tell me, do you still have the same weakness?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," he mocked, "you're practically a superhero. You have no weaknesses." A beat, then, "What about...What do your friends call him? Your SEAL."

Reena's entire body went rigid. If he touched Steve, she'd kill him. "You lost me, Wo Fat."

"I don't think so, Sabrina. You went berserk when I sent you those photos from his camp in Afghanistan." A chuckle. "Masterpieces, don't you think. He had one of my men beside him, a traitor to his country, and he didn't even know it. It would've been so easy to...What's that American expression? Oh, right. Snuff him."

Reena clenched the armrest on her chair so hard, her knuckles turned white.

Wo Fat wasn't done. "You dumped him so fast the boy's head is still reeling, I'm sure. And then you went on a killing rampage among my colleagues. Suicide mission, I'm sure, and yet, you're still alive, and once more reunited with your SEAL."

She forced her voice to remain calm, while inside she was quivering with fear and rage. This was the man who had started the avalanche that had been her life the past five years. This was the man who had threatened the most important person in her life, mocking her with photos, with the ease with which he could have killed him.

"Oh, you're talking about Steve McGarrett. Sorry to disappoint, but he's not mine."

"Right, he's with that gorgeous Navy Lieutenant now. Catherine Rollins. Marvelous woman, but cannot compare with you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Wo Fat laughed softly. "You do that. But do not underestimate me. Don't for one minute think I'm stupid. And I'm not blind either. He might get his pleasure with Lieutenant Rollins, but I saw how he looks at you, you still own his heart. And I saw how you look at him. He's still your weakness, isn't he?" He murmured appreciatively. "I like a consistent woman."

"Good luck finding one in your line of work," she snarled and got the reaction she wanted.

"I did find her," he hissed. "And you killed her. You will pay."

"I said, come and get me," she taunted.

"No, no, it doesn't work like that. I'll kill McGarrett, slowly. And you'll watch."

She scoffed, forcing herself to smile, so he would hear it in her voice. "Then you'd kill a perfectly decent man, someone I care about, but wouldn't get your revenge. Not really. Steve's not my weakness anymore," she lied.

There was a long pause, before he continued, more calmly. "I'll just have to find another one, then. How's the governor these days?"

Hearing threats to Steve and not reacting has wiped her out. With the bastard threatening both him and her brother, Reena couldn't hold it in any longer. "You son of a bitch," she hissed.

Laughter, broken by the dial tone, was his only reply.

.

.

_Sabrina Logan's rental home, 9 p.m._

Reena pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and, blowing the stray wisps of hair out of her eyes, checked the time on her phone. She would give it another fifteen minutes before she left for downtown to start her secret task of acting as guardian angel for Steve McGarrett.

Wo Fat wasn't stupid. Far from it. He'd go for Steve first. She assumed he was relatively safe when he was with the team, earlier at work, and now at dinner—the people around him acting as buffer. Wo Fat would try to get him when he was alone, he'd see the need to dispose of the rest of the team a nuisance. Grabbing Steve would be a feat as it is. Her SEAL was a tough bastard. He wouldn't take being kidnapped to be held hostage lightly.

And just in case his training wouldn't be enough or Wo Fat decided to play dirty—which wouldn't be the first time—she'd be there for extra protection.

She'd called her brother as soon as Wo Fat had hung up on her, telling him about the call, about Wo Fat being the mastermind behind everything that had happened so far, making sure Marc knew he was in danger as well, making sure he took the extra precautions—in the form of his gun, his knife, along with his usual entourage.

Reena checked herself in the mirror and grinned imagining what Danny would say if he saw her. Ninja, probably. She was once more dressed in black, black boots, black cargos, black long-sleeved tee, and armed to the teeth with a knife tucked into one boot, a small-caliber Beretta into the other, a taser in a pocket, her SIG in its holster on her hip and a Glock tucked into the waistband at her back.

She frowned when her doorbell rang. If it was her brother she'd kick his butt all the way back to his house, and tie him up until morning.

Her frown turned into a scowl, when she opened her door to meet Vincent Fryer's glare.

"Well, well," he growled, looking her up and down. "Aren't we fancy tonight."

"What do you want, Fryer?"

He looked over her shoulder. "Won't you invite me in?"

"No. What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

She shook her head. "Sorry, it'll have to wait. I'm in a hurry." Reena locked the door behind her and walked to the black pick-up parked in her driveway. She frowned as Fryer blocked her path. "Move."

He brushed an imaginary lint off his sleeve. "I have information on Wo Fat."

Reena frowned, her mind racing. "Who?"

"Wo Fat," Fryer replied. "The one you tortured Delano about."

Reena reached for her gun, but she wasn't quick enough. She was also outnumbered. The sound from behind her alerted her only a heartbeat before the blow came...

Vincent Fryer stared down at Sabrina Logan's prone body at his feet and snorted. "Not so tough, now, are you, bitch?" He knelt beside her, stripping her of her weapons, lingering in his search, being extra thorough. He licked his lips as he ran his hands over her bottom. "We'll see how long it takes to break you..._Reena_."

He stood, nodded to the young Japanese that accompanied him. "Put her in the trunk."


	35. Chapter 34: Lawe 'ia

Reena slowly opened her eyes, her head hammering. She tried moving, but her hands and feet were bound. For a moment disorientation set in, then memories intruded. Her plans for the evening, Fryer's visit, the soft sound from behind, the blow...

"Son of a bitch," she hissed. Either Fryer's grudge had grown out of proportion, which was highly doubtful, or he was working for someone. Wo Fat most likely.

"Son of a bitch," she hissed again. The little weasel had gone about it in plain sight, right underneath their noses, and no one had known, no one had suspected.

Before she succumbed to the urge to mentally kick herself, she assessed her situation. Wherever they kept her, it was pitch black and silent. So she assumed she was somewhere outside the city, she only hoped she was still on O'ahu.

Okay, next order of business. She wiggled left and right, hoping against hope. There was nothing in her pockets, they've taken her weapons, all of them. Of course, they have, they weren't stupid. Unfortunately, they weren't stupid.

It was pointless wiggling about in the dark like a worm, searching for something to loosen her bonds, because, unless she found a pair of shears, she wasn't getting loose; they've used flexicuffs.

All she could do was wait, listen, be patient. She hated waiting, she hated not being able to do anything to save herself. She could only hope that Marc, in his uber-protective big brother mode, would remember her contingency plan. And she hoped he'd stay far away when he did.

She relaxed her muscles, trying to bring the dull pain in her head under control, and closed her eyes...

.

.

_Governor's residence, 5 a.m._

Marcus Hawthorne sipped his coffee, scanning the paper, the restlessness that had plagued him for half the night still going strong. He had the feeling there was something wrong, something seriously wrong.

He tried Reena's number again. Still unavailable. And the restlessness increased. She was never unavailable. At least not for so long. He better make a quick stop before going to work.

.

.

_McGarrett home, 5.15 a.m._

Steve hadn't slept a wink, tossing and turning, a strange feeling of urgency riding him hard. He knew the feeling. He'd experienced it almost every day in Afghanistan. Like a sixth sense, a gut instinct, telling him either something big was about to happen or something had already happened and someone was in danger.

He poured another cup of coffee, gulped it down, grabbed his keys, and went to work.

.

.

_State Capitol, 5.45 a.m._

Marcus Hawthorne stalked into his office, slammed the door shut, and tried calling his sister again. The last time, but he still hoped she'd answer. His hope went unanswered, as he suspected—no, knew—it would.

The pick-up he'd lent her for her little 'guardian angel side gig', as she'd called it, was in her driveway and there was no sign of her in the house, the bed untouched. And he knew, he absolutely knew, she was in trouble.

And counting on him to find her.

"Great, sis," he whispered, scrolling through his contact list. "You never do things half-way."

"Cook," a cultured voice answered the call.

"Elton, this is Marcus Hawthorne."

The head of the CSS R&D department didn't waste time with pleasantries. He went straight to the point. "What trouble is she in now?"

"The usual."

"That SEAL?" It was a rhetorical question. Elton Cook, as Reena's former partner, was one of the few people still alive who knew everything. Or as close to everything as possible with Sabrina Logan involved.

Still, Marc answered. "One and the same."

Cook cursed softly. "When will it end?"

"Soon," Marc replied. Very soon if he had anything to say about it. "She's gone missing."

Another soft curse, then furious tapping. So it was true what Reena had told him, Elton Cook was never too far away from his computer. "Contingency protocol initiated." More tapping. "Got her. Coming through loud and clear. I'll send you the coordinates."

"Thank you, Elton."

"Hey, Marc. You met the guy?"

He didn't have to ask who Elton meant. "Yeah."

"Is he worth it?"

Marc wanted to say no, Steve McGarrett wasn't worth everything his sister had gone through for him. But he couldn't. Because if Reena loved the man, he was worth it. That and more. Because his sister would never fall for someone who didn't deserve it.

And now, after getting to know the man he'd previously only read about, Marc had to agree. Steve McGarrett _was_ worthy. Of his sister's love. Of her devotion. And if Marc had any say in the matter, he'd get it. Because it didn't take a genius to see the man still loved his sister. He might be too stubborn to admit it, or too scared of getting burned again, but it was there. It was amazing Reena didn't notice. Marc smiled. Those directly involved seldom saw what was right in front of their noses.

The smile changed into a frown. What McGarrett wasn't worth, though, was Reena giving her life for him, and Marc knew the man would agree with him, even if Reena wouldn't. That's why he would do everything in his power to get her back alive and well, so he could yell at her as much as he pleased.

"Yes," he replied. "Unfortunately, he is."

"Good," Cook growled. "Now I don't have to erase his 401(k) for being a loser."

Marc chuckled, checked his phone. "I got the coordinates. Thank you again."

"You're welcome. Now, go get her."

Marc blinked as the call was disconnected. Those Alphabet-soup-agency boys were all the same. No time for hellos or goodbyes.

He called up the coordinated, scanned the result. If the subdermal GPS-enabled implant on Reena's hip was working as it should, they held her somewhere in the Ko'olau Range. Far away from any civilization. Not an access point in sight, unless you hiked or had a helicopter handy. But the spot was perfect for a surprise attack, the ridge an excellent position for a sniper.

He smiled, feeling the exhilaration before the battle. Damn, he'd missed this feeling. Nothing in the world could beat it. The calculating of the odds, the planning, the looking at a problem from all possible angles...God, he'd missed the feeling.

Strategy and its back-up in place, he picked up his phone again, scrolled his contacts.

"White," a deep, slightly raspy voice answered on the second ring.

"Joe, it's Marc. I need a favor."


	36. Chapter 35: Ka'akālai

_Ko'olau Mountain Range, O'ahu, 6.30 a.m._

Marc brought his pick-up to a dust-lifting stop at the beginning of a hiking trail. His father's former colleague in the SEALs, Joe White, was already waiting for him. With him were four Marines, sent along by his buddy at the base...And Danny Williams, Chin Ho Kelly, and Steve McGarrett.

Gritting his back teeth, Marc grabbed his pack from the passenger seat, and mentally counted to ten. So much for discretion. He'd told Joe to get a few trusted men together, true, but that didn't mean 'enlist the Five-0'. Reena was going to kill him. But, he suspected, she'd have to get in line once McGarrett learned just who they were saving. Or Joe. Because if Joe knew, so would his father, and there was no telling what former Senator Sebastian Hawthorne might do.

"Show-time," he murmured, opened his door, and jumped out of the truck.

Steve arched an eyebrow as he saw the governor. The always polished, suit-and-tie sporting Marcus Hawthorne, wore camo pants and shirt, hiking boots, wraparound sunglasses, and a bulky pack slung easily over his right shoulder. There was a mean looking knife tucked in his boot, and a SIG in the holster at his waist.

It was rather disconcerting seeing the soldier where the politician was supposed to be. Disconcerting so see someone skilled enough to protect, to keep safe. Disconcerting, because this man _could_ keep Sabrina safe, so she wouldn't need anybody else to do the job...So she wouldn't need Steve to do the job.

Shaking himself out of the grim reverie, Steve watched as Joe pulled the governor into a bear-hug.

"It's good to see you, son," Joe said.

"You, too, Joe," Marc replied. "I thought you'd bring someone else with you, though."

Joe shrugged. "Too much paperwork, and you wanted a good sniper. I brought along the best." A small smile. "Figures it would take an emergency to contact me. How long have you been in Hawaii?"

"Three months," Marc answered with a sheepish smile. "And I've been busy."

"Too busy to see an old friend. What about Sabrina? Was she too busy as well?"

Steve scowled. "You know Sabrina?"

Joe looked at him. "Of course I do, she's Marc's...friend. How do you know her?"

"It's a long story."

Joe looked at Marc questioningly, received a slight nod in reply and his eyes widened. "Ah. I see."

Everybody saw, it seemed, but him, Steve mused, then decided to get to the point. "So who are we saving today?"

"Sabrina."

"Shit," Joe murmured.

Before Marc could draw breath to continue, McGarrett held him by his shirt. "Sabrina's been taken?"

Marc shook his head when Joe moved in to intervene. "Yes. Last night, probably between nine and eleven p.m."

"And you know this how?" Steve growled, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fingers around the man's throat.

"She called me at five to nine and she was unavailable at eleven."

How could the man speak so matter-of-factly about Sabrina's disappearance? "It's been eight hours!"

Marc freed his shirt and stepped back. "And I didn't know she was missing until I drove by her house this morning."

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny intervened, before his partner could do something stupid. Or stupider. "Why don't we forget our differences, gentlemen, and get down to business?"

It was at the tip of Marc's tongue to comment that there was at least someone thinking clearly among them, but knew it would not have been fair. He's been as frantic as McGarrett when he'd learned of Sabrina's disappearance. He's just had more time to adapt to the thought of it.

He watched as McGarrett visibly pulled his impenetrable shield around him, his eyes focused, and his face became expressionless. It reminded him of his sister and her similar ability.

"How do you know where she is?"

"Don't you want to know who took her first?" Joe asked.

"I don't have to," Steve replied. "Wo Fat."

"The man who had John killed?"

Steve merely nodded.

"What the hell?"

"It's all connected, Joe," Marc supplied. He didn't have to elaborate. Joe got the picture. "She has a subdermal implant in her hip," he continued. "Contingency plan for exactly this kind of situation."

"GPS-enabled?" Chin asked.

Marc nodded.

Chin whistled softly. "Impressive. Those are not exactly available to the general public."

"There's nothing general about Sabrina Logan," Steve muttered. "When did she get it?"

"Five years ago," Marc replied. Only it hadn't been meant as a search-and-rescue means, back then. It had been to make sure if something happened, they could identify the body.

"There's that number again," Danny murmured. Those two words kept on popping up, more and more often.

Marc pulled a folded map out of the back pocket of his camos. "The coordinates haven't changed. She's stationary. For now." He unfolded the map, pointed at a spot in the middle of nowhere. "They're keeping her here."

Joe peered closer. "I see why you wanted a sniper." He ran his finger on the map. "This ridge here would be perfect. We'll just have to make sure it's clean."

"That everything is clean," Steve added.

One of the Marines grinned. "That's where we come in." He looked at Marc. "We heard a lot about you, Sergeant-Major Hawthorne. We're glad to help."

Marc nodded. "You'll have to tell me who told you about me."

Another grin. "Marines never kiss and tell." The Marine nodded to his colleagues. "Let's go."

And the four men disappeared down the trail.

Marc sighed, envious. "Oorah."

.

.

_7.25 a.m._

A grating sound coming from above her, made Reena open her eyes. Wherever she was being held was still pitch black, making her suspect she was in some sort of basement or bomb shelter. That sound has just confirmed her suspicions.

It was followed by a metallic screech, like a door opening on rusty hinges, and a beam of light hit her directly in the face, blinding her.

"Good morning, sunshine," Vincent Fryer greeted and lowered a ladder though the opening. "Did you have pleasant dreams?"

"Very," she replied, blinking furiously up into the blinding light. "I dreamed of beating the shit out of you."

He chuckled and slid down the ladder. "You forget who has the upper hand here."

"Wo Fat. You're just a lackey. Expendable work-force."

He slapped her and she spat onto his shoe. He slapped her again.

She glared up at him. "I'd be more than happy to kill you for fingers curled into a fist, but he pulled back. His boss had said that she should remain unmarked. But there were other ways to make an impression. And there was plenty of time for that, before the boss arrived. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back. "Up you go, bitch."

"Yeah?" She wiggled a little. "And how do you propose I do that?"

He pulled a knife from his back pocket. _Her_ knife. "Don't get any ideas," he warned, cutting the binds on her arms and legs.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Reena hissed, rubbing her ankles, then her wrists. She would never go into a fight unprepared, without knowing what might wait for her up there, how many men Wo Fat had, what traps they've laid.

She meekly followed Fryer up the ladder, out of the basement and up into what looked little more than a ramshackle shed.

"So, where is he?" she asked. "Not very hospitable of him to make his guest wait."

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Fryer asked, pulling another zipcuff from his pocket.

"That was sarcasm," she corrected. "Jackass."

That earned her another slap, then he turned her, her back to his front, and tied her wrists again. Then, gun firmly in hand, he pushed her out of the shed.

She blinked, her eyes still sensitive after spending so long in the dark. She stumbled as he pushed her again, then...

...All hell broke loose.


	37. Chapter 36: Puni

A muffled grunt came from somewhere in the surrounding forest, a sound of a body hitting the floor, then a barrage of shots. Reena could feel the panic rise in Fryer. The hand holding her tightened around her upper arm, the muscles tensed. He lifted his arm and looped it around her neck, pressed his gun to her temple, pulling her around and around, his eyes undoubtedly scanning the forest around them, looking for enemies, searching for allies.

More shots echoed as Wo Fat's men opened fire at the yet-unseen opponent. Reena grinned. The opponent would remain unseen. The men her brother had probably enlisted wouldn't be seen unless they wanted to.

The forest went silent. But for that little slip at the beginning, the cavalry was still in full stealth mode, the predators stalking their prey. God love Force Recon Marines.

She opened her mouth to taunt her captor, when Fryer backed against the side of the shed they've come out from, pressed the gun more firmly against her temple, and yelled into the stillness of the forest, "I'll kill her, I swear I'll kill her!"

A pair of eyes watching from the shrubbery narrowed as Reena gritted her teeth when Fryer ground the gun barrel against her skull. The man had played them all, had probably been the one to kidnap her, and now he was hurting her. He was going down.

"Do it," the watcher whispered and the sniper on top of the ridge, keeping Fryer's head in the crosshairs of his rifle, gently pulled the trigger.

Reena felt something wet spray the side of her head, felt Fryer's grip go slack, then she heard the muffled pop of a single shot. She shuddered a little at the thought of having her face covered with a mixture of Fryer's blood and brain matter, then priorities kicked in.

She dropped to the ground, brought her bound hands under her rump, under her legs and feet, rummaged in the man's pocket for his sheers, and cut the plastic cuff. She regained her feet, listening intently for any telltale sounds from the forest. Nothing stirred, not a bird, not a bee. The battle wasn't over yet.

She wiped the side of her face with her sleeve and, for the first time in her life, ignored the fight, ignored the gun in Fryer's slackened palm, rounded the corner of the shed, and walked away from the battle. She didn't want to shoot someone she wasn't supposed to shoot, she didn't trust her weakened arms to hold the gun steady or her weakened legs not to fold underneath her. And she most certainly didn't want to be used for leverage once more. Let the boys have some fun on this one.

She'd gain the ridge—somehow—and huddle in with the sniper. Whoever he was.

Her freedom and her resolve was short lived, though. An arm sneaked from inside the shed and Reena saw stars as the fist connected with her cheek. She'd look like a raccoon tomorrow.

"You didn't think I forgot about you, did you?"

She shuddered as Wo Fat's calm voice penetrated the dazed haze in her brain. He pulled her back inside the shed, toward the hole in the ground, the entrance to the basement. He pushed her down the ladder, tied her hands behind her back again, lit a huge flashlight, and pulled the trapdoor above them closed. He secured it with a padlock and rejoined her at the bottom of the ladder.

"Come on," he said, taking her upper arm and pulled her toward the end of the basement. "We're going to take a walk. I don't like the situation up there."

She blinked as the basement slowly narrowed into a tunnel.

"I wonder how they found you so fast," Wo Fat mused aloud. "I told Fryer to get rid of your phone, but the idiot never listens. And he got a bullet through the brain for it."

Reena's survival instinct was starting to kick in, the fight-or-flight response riding her hard. Her eyes were darting around the tunnel, following the beam of the flashlight, searching for something to use as weapon, when his next words, froze every single thought in her brain.

"Your brother is one hell of a fighter, I'll give you that." He looked down at her, grinned. "Surprise! And you thought your secret was safe. I know Marcus Hawthorne is your brother."

Reena swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"I wonder why you didn't tell your beloved SEAL that." A chuckle. "He thinks you're all hot and heavy with the new governor. Oh, the poor man, with his heart all broken, yet he can't stay away, can he?" He pulled her roughly forward. "Move, Sabrina. We have a helicopter to catch. And a trap to spring. I thought I could lure your SEAL here, alone, so you could watch as I killed him, but I'll just have to change my plans."

.

"Steve," Joe's voice came through the earpiece loud and clear. "He pulled her back into the shed. I couldn't get a bead."

Steve cursed, listened to the others' reports of the 'all clear', then dashed out of the bushes, met Hawthorne in front of the shed.

"Joe saw Wo Fat take her back into the shed."

Hawthorne's curse mirrored his. "Joe, did you see if there were more men?"

"No," Joe replied from the ridge. "I only saw him for a second."

Steve met Hawthorne's eyes. The other man lifted his gun, nodded. With a grim smile Steve kicked the door in, and entered in a crouch, leading with his gun.

The small shed was empty. There was no other door, but for the trapdoor in the middle of the floor.

"He took her into the basement," Steve conveyed through his mike, tried the trapdoor, but it didn't budge.

Marc gave a helping hand, but the metallic door wouldn't open. "It's locked." He frowned. "Why? He'll need to come out eventually."

Steve holstered his gun, shook his head. "This part of the range is still mostly military land. World War II antennas and bunkers." He looked at Hawthorne. "Can you check Sabrina's coordinates?"

Marc felt his muscles tense at the implication. "Give me a sec." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, accessed the app with the implant's feed, cursed. "She's moving. Northeast."

Steve grabbed the map from Hawthorne's hand, unfolded it. "There's supposed to be an old airstrip northeast from here. Joe, do you have a clear view to the north-east?"

"What am I looking for?"

"A small airstrip."

"No airstrip, just a clearing. There's a part of a concrete structure poking out of the forest."

Steve shook his head. "A clearing isn't enough to land a plane. Even a small one."

"True, but there's enough room for a chopper," Joe supplied.

"Chopper?"

"Sitting nice and pretty in the middle of the jungle."

Steve met Hawthorne's eyes. And both men turned and ran out of the shed, and disappeared into the forest, heading toward the northeast, with Danny, Chin and the four Marines in pursuit.

Above them Joe was also on the move. The ridge extended in a curved arc toward the clearing where the chopper waited, so he'd be able to serve as additional eyes to the small team currently tearing through the forest.

The old SEAL grinned as he loped along the ridge, his rifle slung comfortably over his shoulder. He couldn't wait to see this go down. Marc was a dangerous opponent in any situation, but this time it was his sister who was in danger. Wo Fat had no idea who he was up against.

But it was Steve that was the wild card in this final game of chess. Joe has never seen his former protégé so riled in his life. He did a good job in hiding it, but it was there, brewing just underneath the surface, one only had to look for the signs.

And it was only a matter of time before all that pent-up aggression exploded. When the boy went berserk...Oh, man. It would be best to sit back and enjoy the fireworks from a safe distance.


	38. Chapter 37: Pau 'ana

Marc followed McGarrett through the forest, his feeling of admiration for the man growing with every foot they covered. McGarrett moved like a ghost, quietly and silently. Barely a leaf moved, the animals remained undisturbed...It was like McGarrett was part of nature, one with the forest. Though Marc had received similar training, he couldn't help but feel a slight spark of envy.

And satisfaction. Satisfaction that he hadn't been wrong, McGarrett was worthy of his sister. Satisfaction that Reena had fallen in love with a man strong, confident, and capable of protecting those he cared about.

Steve came to a stop on the edge of the clearing, his breathing only slightly heavy, his heart-rate already returning to normal. A white helicopter rested in the middle of the small clearing, the pilot having a smoke a few steps away from it. He appeared to be alone.

A few whispered words and the four Marines circled the clearing, scouting the area for company. Joe called in, reporting he was in place. Chin and Danny circled the moved in behind the Maries and Hawthorne came to his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket, showing him Reena's position.

She was still behind them and Steve allowed himself a faint grin. Atta girl. She knew they were tracking her and was probably stalling to give them a head start.

He nodded to Hawthorne and they moved in unison along the edge of the clearing away from what appeared to be an old bunker from where, he suspected, Wo Fat and Reena would emerge. He didn't want to admit, but he and the governor made quite a team, needing mere gestures and glances to communicate, as if they've done this a million times before. The guy was good, but that didn't mean he was ready to admit it aloud. That he ever would be willing to.

Keeping one eye on the pilot, who quickly disappeared into the jungle assisted by a very helpful Marine, and the other on the entrance to the bunker, Steve leaned against a tree, feeling more than seeing Hawthorne strike a similar pose a little behind him.

And they waited.

.

.

For the umpteenth time since Wo Fat's dragged her into the tunnel, Reena stumbled and for the fifteenth time went down onto her knees. Though it went against every single feminist cell in her body, it was rather easy to play the damsel in distress. Though, to be quite honest, she wasn't overly pretending. Her legs _were _killing her from all the stumbling, her arms were numb again, and her head was throbbing like hell.

The beam from the flashlight blinded her, before Wo Fat clenched his fingers around her upper arm and dragged her back to her feet, grunting a curse.

They haven't made three steps, when she went down again.

He scowled, dragged her to her feet, and shook her. "I wonder how you managed to survive this long being so clumsy."

She let herself go limp, fighting a smile, when he shook her again. He shone the flashlight in her face again, and her eyes rolled back in her head. He slapped her, and she blinked slowly up at him.

"Move, Ms. Logan," he growled. "Or I'll just leave you down here."

It was an empty threat and they both knew it. He needed her. He still needed to get his revenge on her. He needed her to spring another trap. But she still let him drag her along, hoping her brother had enough time to precede them and was already lying in wait.

.

A hundred paces or so later, Wo Fat pushed open a heavy iron door and Reena was blinded by bright sunlight for the second time that day. It was really getting old and her eyes agreed wholeheartedly.

He pushed her out of the tunnel and she stumbled—for real this time—and would've dived head-first into the brush, if he hadn't caught her by the flexicuff. For a moment she found herself hanging by her wrists, before he righted her with a bruising grip around her upper arm.

Back on her feet, she narrowed her eyes at the helicopter in the clearing that looked like the end of an airstrip already reclaimed by the thick foliage. There seemed to be no one around, but she experienced once more the feeling of being watched. She smiled slightly. They were friendly eyes.

Blue eyes narrowed menacingly in the shadows of the forest as Reena almost lost her footing again thanks to a push from behind. Steve has had enough of this game. It was time to end it once and for all.

A few quiet words into his throat mike and a nod later, he was out of the forest, gun drawn. Goosebumps rose on his skin, as Sabrina's eyes grew incredibly wide and filled with horror. He's never seen such a terrified expression on her face and he almost turned to seek out the yet-unidentified threat, when he felt Marcus Hawthorne behind him murmuring, "All clear."

"Well, well, well," Wo Fat whispered in Reena's ear. "He really can't stay away, can he?"

She felt a tremor run down her spine, and her heart sped up. What was he doing here? Why did Marc contact him? Why did Marc bring him? Why did Marc come himself? They were both in danger because of her and she couldn't do a thing. Not with her hands tied behind her back, Wo Fat once more holding the ziptie, and a gun against her neck.

A tug on the zipzie brought her back against his chest. "How did they know where we'll be?" he growled. "Tell me?"

"I have a GPS tracker in my butt," she snapped.

"Let her go, Wo Fat," Steve called out, gun aimed at the bastard holding the most important woman in his life at gun point. "Let her go and maybe I'll let you live."

Reena felt a breath against her ear. "So brave," he murmured. "And so foolish." He whistled.

Nothing happened.

He whistled again.

Still nothing.

Steve smirked. "Don't bother. Your men are out of commission."

Wo Fat frowned. How _did_ McGarrett and Hawthorne precede him? How _did_ they know where to be? He glared down at Sabrina. Was it possible she had some kind of tracking device on her? Something Fryer had missed?

He pulled her to the side, keeping both men in his sight, while pressing the gun more firmly against her neck. His mind raced, thinking of all possible ways out and escape routes. It didn't look good, but he still had his ace to play—Sabrina Logan.

"You let _me_ go and I let her live."

"Don't listen to him!" Reena cried. "Don't let him go!"

"Shut up," he growled. "Shut up, or I'll shoot one of them. You choose. Which one? The brother? Or the lover?"

He pointed the gun at Steve and Reena went wild. She bucked, she kicked, she head-butted, and she made him grunt. But it didn't make any difference. The gun was quickly back in place against her neck, the other hand buried in her hair.

"Reen, don't move," Steve ordered, moving closer. "_Don't move._"

"I have my answer," Wo Fat hissed. He glared at Steve. "My safe passage for her life."

Steve shook his head. "I can't do that."

"Don't let this bastard go, Steve."

"Shut up, you bitch." Wo Fat pulled her head back by her hair and met Steve's eyes. "I _will_ kill her. She killed Jelena, it's only fair she pays. But if you let me go, she's all yours."

"You're not leaving this island," Steve growled.

"Fine."

She felt the gun against the side of her neck, just below the edge of her jaw. A perfect entry for maximum damage. Reena met Steve's eyes...

"He's going for it, son," Joe's voice sounded in his ear. "I have a clear shot."

There was so much in those gray eyes, everything jumbled up, all coming at him at once, he couldn't decipher it. Her eyes were so soft, so beautiful, slowly filling with tears, Steve knew exactly what he had to do.

He shook his head slightly.

"He's all yours," Joe replied.

Steve pulled the trigger.


	39. Chapter 38: Hopena

Reena flinched, waiting for...Something. She had no idea what. Pain? Darkness? Light at the end of the tunnel?

Nothing happened. Nothing but the sound of the shot, the slackening grip on her hair, and the soft thud from behind her.

She watched, eyes wide, heart thundering in her chest, as Steve lowered his hands a little, gun pointed at a spot on the ground behind her, and quickly approached her.

He didn't look at her, he didn't stop, but took two more steps. She turned after him and watched as he circled Wo Fat's body. He kicked the gun out of the man's slackened grip, dropped to one knee and felt for a pulse.

She could tell him not to bother, there was a hole where the man's right eye used to be and she knew the back of Wo Fat's skull looked even worse. She shuddered at the thought this was the second time in one morning she's been held at gunpoint and her assailant had been shot in the head.

Steve stood, holstered his gun and looked at Sabrina. The expression on her face made him want to pull her in his arms and tell her everything was okay, never letting go. She looked stunned, her gaze a little blank as if the fact she was safe, that she wouldn't die today, hasn't yet sank in. He gritted his teeth at the memory of her face when Wo Fat had placed the gun against her neck. She'd been ready to die, she'd been ready to sacrifice herself so he'd get his hands on Wo Fat, the man who had had his father killed.

So now he was vacillating between wanting to hold her close and throttling her for willingly putting her life on the line. But the holding her close was winning. Big time. Unfortunately, he couldn't act on that impulse. Marcus Hawthorne beat him to it.

With a sick feeling he watched the man free Sabrina's hands and enfold her into a tight hug, burying his face against her neck. She circled his waist with her arms and seemed to hold on for dear life.

And Steve finally got it. He finally got it. They had a bond nothing could touch. No matter what happened, no matter what he did, he could never compete with that. And it made him want to go crawl into a hole and rage at the world. Because in that moment Steve McGarrett finally realized that the woman he loved more than anything was lost to him.

He would die for her, he would kill for her—he killed Wo Fat, the only man who could give him all the answers, for her—and it would never be enough. All hopes of maybe one day winning her back were gone. She would never love him as much as she loved Marcus Hawthorne.

It was over. He was throwing in the towel. He'd been beaten.

And he was tired.

With one last look into Wo Fat's dead eyes, he turned toward the forest to start the hike back. He wasn't waiting for anyone.

"Are you okay?" Marc murmured.

Reena nodded, getting her bearing back, everything that had happened finally registering. Steve had killed Wo Fat. To save her. He'd forfeited any chance of getting answers, any chance of finally learning the entire truth about his father and his mother's murder, to save her life.

She wasn't worth it. And he'd still done it.

She pushed out of her brother's embrace, turned to look for Steve.

He was almost at the edge of the clearing, heading back into the forest, and she ran after him, barely sparing Wo Fat's corpse a glance.

"Steve, wait," she called.

He froze, schooled his features, and turned.

She missed a step at the blankness of his expression. Then she steeled herself and approached him.

"You should've taken him alive," she said softly.

"He was using you as a shield."

"Steve—"

He placed a finger against her lips. "It was worth it."

She shook her head.

His finger left her lips, caressed her cheek. "Your life's worth more."

He took her chin between his thumb and index finger, leaned down, and kissed her on the mouth. Hard and quick. Then he turned, and disappeared into the foliage.

Marc watched the quick exchange through a film of tears, his heart hurting, while on the ridge overlooking the valley, Joe White lifted his eye off the scope and shook his head.

Danny and Chin exchanged a glance, then slowly followed their friend into the brush.

Reena swallowed back tears, squared her shoulders, and turned back, watched as four Marines emerged from the forest surrounding the clearing, then looked at her brother. "Have you checked the chopper, yet?"

Marc blinked and looked up to the sky. For a moment there, when she'd thought she was about to die, that wall of hers had come crumbling down and he'd glimpsed the whole Sabrina in those gray eyes. Everything had been there, the sadness, the acceptance, the pleading for forgiveness, and the love shining through like a beacon—one had to be blind to miss that and apparently McGarrett _was_ blind—but now the wall was back up and she was hiding again, regrouping, mending the tears in the façade.

"Why?" he asked on a sigh.

"Because his computer might be in there," she replied. "No, it _has_ to be in there. He was too paranoid to leave it somewhere else. He's dead, but I might get something off of his computer."

Without waiting for him, she stalked to the chopper, yanked the door open, and climbed inside.

He approached the chopper, listening to her curses, a bang, then watched her jump out and climb into the passenger hold.

There was a triumphant "Yes!", and she jumped out again, a computer case in her hand.

"Now, I need to sit down," she said and dropped onto her butt, groaned, then laid down completely, the computer case clutched to her chest.

Marc was at her side instantly. "Reen, are you okay?"

She opened her eyes, her smile wobbly, her gaze slightly unfocused. "Not really."

"What is it?"

"Well, my head is a bit spinny, it hurts, and there are a few spots dancing around me." She paused, thought a bit, then continued, "Fryer's buddy must've conked me harder than I thought."

Marc frowned. No wonder she'd been held up at gunpoint twice, she wasn't operating at full capacity. "You have a concussion and you had to search the chopper first?"

She shrugged and closed her eyes—the light was too bright. "Priorities."

"I have mine as well." He crouched, tucked an arm under her back, the other under her knees, and hoisted her up. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

She chuckled. "Yeah? Will you carry me all the way back?"

"No, I'll fly you."

"Damn," she grouched. "I should've seen that one coming."

"Yes, you should've." He tucked her into the chopper, threw his car keys to a Marine. "Take my car to the State Capitol, will you?"

The Marine nodded and loped after his colleagues.

Marc climbed into the chopper, strapped them both in, then started the rotor.

"Marc?"

He turned at the soft question. "Hmm?"

"They can check me out, but I'm not staying."

"Wanna bet?"


	40. Chapter 39: Hanu hohonu

_Sabrina Logan's rental home, four days later_

Reena leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes on a tired sigh.

She had spent that first night after her rescue at the hospital. Her brother had bullied her, the doctor had ordered, the nurses had begged for mercy, and she had stayed for observation. Ligature bruises on her wrists and legs had been tended to, the large-egg-sized bump on the back of her neck had yielded under ice, her headache had subsided thanks to medication and a good, long sleep.

In the morning, back in her own home, she'd finally been able to check out Wo Fat's computer, only to have to call a halt to her attempts thanks to the booby traps it was equipped with. She couldn't poke around freely without possibly compromising the data. It was rigged to purge all files with merely one wrong step.

She needed help and she knew just who to call. Elton Cook, her former partner. She had been more than ready to board a plane and carry the previous cargo to Maryland, but he'd beat her to it, announcing his imminent departure for Hawaii. She guessed he had been unable to resist the temptation of working on such a heavily booby-trapped computer.

It had taken them three days, but with some precious help from one of Elton's little gadgets, they'd made it. It had been long and arduous work, giving them plenty of time to talk about what had happened in their lives since their last lunch together, though they'd refrained from delving into their love-lives, though neither of them had one to speak of. And, of course, play Texas Hold'Em. It had been like old times.

And they'd cracked the protective encryption algorithms on Wo Fat's computer. The government agencies could take lessons from the guy, but they'd made it. Along with Bernice's help. Bernice being Elton's precious little gadget that had worked her great magic in breaking the heaviest of encryptions without making a single wrong move. God bless modern technology. And computer geeks with enough time and funding on their hands to build such miracle-working toys.

Reena opened her eyes, rubbed them, straightened in her chair, and narrowed her gaze at the data on the screen in front of her.

There were detailed information on all Wo Fat's operations—extortion, drug- and weapon-trafficking, murder for hire, espionage, trading in government secrets, infiltration of government agencies around the world, even industrial espionage. You name it, he had had his fingers in it.

But what interested her the most was a single file, buried deep in the bowels of the massive hard-drive. Numerically labeled. Nothing suspicious. If it weren't for the double encryption hiding its contents from unauthorized eyes.

As soon as she'd seen the file, her spidey sense had tingled. And her gut had been right. That was the most important file of all. At least for her. And for a certain ex-Navy SEAL who's been MIA for four days. No one knew where he was, except for the fact he's requested a few days of personal time. No wonder. The _USS Enterprise_ was once more docked in Pearl Harbor.

Reena firmly shut the lid on that thought. What he did in his down-time, and who he did it with, was not important. It was what was in that inconspicuously labeled file that was important. All the pertinent, and not so pertinent, information on John McGarrett, his investigation into the Yakuza and Hiro Noshimuri, Doris McGarrett's murder, the investigation of Pat Jameson and her ties to the Yakuza, his son and his daughter, including Mary's relationship with a certain Marcus Hawthorne.

The investigation into the Yakuza chapter in Hawaii, led by Hiro Noshimuri had started the downfall for John McGarrett and his family. He had gotten too close eighteen years ago, connecting the dots, the lines leading him into the heart of the police department, all the way to the top, even, so they'd decided to shut him up. His wife had gotten the brunt of their anger, driving her husband's car that fateful day. To protect his children, John McGarrett had shipped Steve and Mary to the mainland, but the Yakuza had never let either of them out of their sight.

Five years ago, John McGarrett had once more become a big blip on the radar, when he'd joined forces with the late Governor Pat Jameson and the Yakuza chapter in the South Pacific in their quest of obtaining a classified government project. It had soon become apparent, John hadn't been in for the money, but for the connections, his suspicions and doubts growing, until last year he'd finally had enough evidence to attempt and tie the governor and her special branch of ex-cops to the Yakuza.

The rest was history.

But something else stood out in the hefty file on the McGarrett family. A name that appeared in the latest additions, starting from five years ago, with the apparent enrollment of John McGarrett into the Yakuza. CSS Special Agent Sabrina Logan.

The developer of the program they'd coveted. And then girlfriend to Navy Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett. There was her entire history, from her first breath, the death of her mother, her stint in the system, her schooling, her employment history, her familial ties...The bastard had known everything from the very beginning.

But in the end he hadn't gotten what he wanter. The program. Nor his revenge. She smiled grimly, cracked her knuckles, and started typing.

.

.

A few hours later, she had a report for the US Attorney's office and IA, listing the data on Pat Jameson, her connection to the Yakuza, Hiro Noshimuri and his connection to the police department, Frank Delano and his motley crew of dirty cops, leaving out John McGarrett's involvement. The man was dead, what was the point in poking around in the shady area of his less-than-legal investigations.

She pulled the file on Wo Fat's extra-curricular activities around the globe. The information on cover organizations, the moles in government agencies, bank account numbers, and all other pertinent data needed to put an end to their dealings was sent to four different names in her contact list, four different countries, four different security agencies. She'd leave it to them to clean house.

Then she wrote a long-overdue email to the DHS director, grinned as she pressed the 'Send' button, booted down her computer, and grabbed the report she'd printed for the US Attorney. She had an appointment in her office early the next morning. Her work would be over and she could finally leave.

As she stood, a white envelope fell from her desk. She picked it up, running her thumb over the thick paper. Marcus had delivered it personally two days ago, while she, Elton, and Bernice had still been busy cracking Wo Fat's encryption.

It looked like a wedding invitation, but in fact it was an invitation for a different kind of event. A party—Marc had called it a ball, a ball in this day and age!—his PR people kept insisting he should throw after being in office for more than three months without a single press-related event beside his inauguration press-conference.

Not that there _would_ be many members of the press in attendance, he'd claimed. Just a few, selected ones. And all the people he wanted to invite. She was one of them.

She had refused, he'd cajoled, offering to be her date. She'd told him she had nothing appropriate to wear, he'd offered to buy her a gown. She'd refused again, and he'd refused to listen to reason. She'd called him an ass, he'd retaliated with calling her a stubborn, blind fool.

She'd booted him out of her house and they haven't spoken since. She had no idea whether that was a good thing or not. So, just to be on the safe side, she'd tried to book a seat on a Friday evening flight. No luck. The earliest she could leave was on Saturday morning.

So be it.

She dropped the envelope in her waste paper basket, and turned off the light in her den. It was time to get back to her book.


	41. Chapter 40: Aloha

_Friday_

Steve sighed as he stared out his office window. He'd spent the three days after the shooting in that damned clearing in Coronado, hoping that a glimpse of his previous life, the easy camaraderie between the SEALs would spur something inside him, help him put everything aside, help him forget...Everything. Maybe make new plans. But it hadn't helped.

The loose ends were bothering the hell out of him, but there was nothing he could to about it. Wo Fat was dead. By _his_ hand. And with him had died the only lead to finishing his father's last investigation. To discover whether his mother's death was truly murder, to know what his father knew that had gotten him killed...

The truth was dead and buried with Wo Fat.

Another sigh as he wondered, not for the first time in these four days, whether there was still something keeping him in Hawaii. Not his job, not his family...Nothing. And that was a truly miserable feeling. That someone who's always had something in his life anchoring him—the SEALs, his job in Naval Intelligence, his mission to uncovering the truth—was floating rather aimlessly like an untied balloon.

It was disconcerting, discouraging...And completely futile, but he couldn't help but feel like crap.

There wasn't even a smidgen of an investigation for his little task force to keep his mind off the bleak thoughts.

A soft knock on his door made him turn from the window and his heart made the familiar half-painful, half-happy leap in his chest when he saw Sabrina hesitate on the doorstep. He mentally berated himself for being such a sentimental idiot, that for a second there he's forgotten his adamant resolution of putting their past behind him and moving on, and actually thought of her being an excellent excuse to stay in Hawaii.

But that was not to be. That ship has sailed five years ago. They were over. And he really should stop waiting for a miracle. There was Marcus Hawthorne, for one. And she was leaving soon. Very soon, now that Wo Fat was dead.

God, she was leaving soon. She's probably even now come to say goodbye. And what remained of his stupid heart sported yet another crack.

"Hey," he said when she made no move to come into his office. "What's up?"

Reena shot him a quick smile, her heart doing its usual pitter-pat that happened whenever she was near him. But that was her problem, not his, and she'd die before letting him know how she still felt about him. He'd moved on. So should she. _Yeah, good luck with that one._

"Hey." She entered his office, pulled a small disk out of her pocket, and placed it on his desk. "I thought you might want this."

He slowly looked down at the tiny disk. "What is it?"

"A copy of Wo Fat's files on your family." She shook her head. "I've never encountered a more meticulous crime lord. He kept everything. In minute detail." She nodded toward the disk. "There's also all the data on your father's involvement with him. There's proof your father was mixed with him and governor Jameson merely to gather evidence. Which got him killed in the end."

"How did you get it?"

"Off his computer that was stashed in the helicopter." She hooked her thumbs into her belt-loops. "I just came from the USA's office. I gave them and the IA all the information on Pat Jameson's dealings and her connection to Delano's little dirty force."

He looked at her and she smiled sheepishly. "Somehow your father's name never made it into that particular report. Very strange indeed."

The smile he shot her almost brought her to her knees. "Thanks, Reen."

She felt tears gather behind her eyes, but fought them bravely. "You're welcome." She cleared her throat, feeling beyond uncomfortable with just the two of them in an enclosed space. "Well, that's not the only reason I'm here."

He quickly stomped on the tiny sliver of hope that made his breath hitch a little. "What's the other?"

"I came to say goodbye."

A huge lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow, even more difficult to speak. "You're leaving?"

She nodded, blinking like crazy to keep from crying. "Tomorrow morning."

He swallowed. "There's still that ball or whatever the governor's throwing."

"Right. Of course he invited you." She looked away, quickly wiped her cheek. "I'm not going."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I hope you have fun. And I'm sure you and Catherine will make a striking couple. You always looked great in formal wear." She was starting to feel nauseous. "So this is goodbye."

He circled his desk, pulled her slowly into his arms. "It was good seeing you, Reen," he murmured into her hair, squeezing his eyes against the moisture there. "Thank you for everything, _milimili_."

She sniffed quietly, circled his waist with her arms. She clung a little, before she blinked her tears away and stepped back. She wanted to tell him she loved him, tell him the truth, and hope for the best, but as always, when it came to them, she took the coward's way out. She stood on tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and smiled brilliantly. "_Aloha_, Steve."

She turned and left him staring through the glass wall as she said her goodbyes to the rest of the team—a hug for Kono and Chin, a hug and kiss on the cheek for Danny.

Then she looked at him one last time, the fake brilliant smile still firmly attached to her lips, waved, and left them as suddenly as she'd entered their lives.

.

.

"Hello, Mary."

Mary Ann McGarrett looked up from the thick book she was reading and blinked at Sabrina Logan. The grim expression on the woman's face clashed with the bright yellow smiley on her green top.

"Can I sit?"

The question was rhetorical, because Reena didn't wait for an invitation. She dropped onto the bench opposite Mary McGarrett, nodded to Kamekona who tinkered around his shrimp 'restaurant', and glanced down at the cover of the book Mary was reading.

_Ana Karenina_. Marc's favorite book. Classic, thick, 'heavy'. Reena preferred modern-day thrillers and romantic suspense.

She had no intentions of beating around the bush, losing time with pleasantries and small talk. There was a time limit on this conversation, so she came straight to the point. "I heard about you and Marc."

Mary stared at her own reflection in the woman's dark sunglasses. It was disconcerting and rather impersonal talking to someone whose eyes you couldn't see. As if reading her mind, Sabrina Logan pushed the sunglasses on top of her head, and Mary could finally meet her gray gaze. Of course, there was nothing there.

"I heard you severed all contact because you saw us together," Sabrina continued and Mary didn't have to wonder who had tattled. Only one other person knew.

"My brother has a big mouth."

Reena shrugged. "I'm here to tell you that you were wrong."

Mary felt something lodge in her throat.

"He's my best friend." Truth. "But there's nothing romantic between us."

With eyes that resembled calm pools of blankness, Mary couldn't be sure whether Sabrina was telling the truth, but she had no reason to lie. And Mary felt the lump in her throat get even larger.

"He loves you, Mary, and from how you look right now, I'd say you love him, too. I'm giving you the opportunity to fix things."

There was a strange tone in her voice, something very much akin to wistfulness, though Mary could see Sabrina was slowly retreating behind some kind of a wall. The eyes were a little too blank, the voice a little too calm.

"Why should I believe you?"

Reena blinked slowly. "You don't have to. Drawing wrong conclusions runs in your family, so I wouldn't blame you."

Mary had to smile at Sabrina's ability to convey censure without changing the pitch of her voice or her expression.

"But think about it," Reena continued. "When you saw us before, did we look like a couple? When you saw us again, here, on the beach, did we look like a couple to you?"

She had a point. They had been cozy, with a smile, hug, touching of hands, but when Mary had seen them from up close, there had been no romantic vibe. They had looked like friends, family even, but not lovers.

Damn it. Was drawing wrong conclusions really in the family genes? Had she made a huge mistake? Possibly. The McGarretts were notorious for their hotheadedness.

"I thought not," Reena went on. "It's not too late. You can still fix things, live happily ever after, yadda yadda yadda." A pause. "You can be his date for tonight's gala."

Mary blinked. She couldn't go as Marc's date, even if she was starting to believe Sabrina's story. She'd promised Steve to go with him.

"_Had_ there ever been romantic feelings between you two?" she asked.

"No."

"My brother doesn't think so."

"Family genetics."

Mary nodded. "I'll give you that one. Why didn't you tell him he's wrong?"

"It was complicated." She glanced down, composed herself, and then met Mary's eyes again. "Now it doesn't matter anymore. He's moved on, he has Catherine now, and all I wish is happiness for them both."

So it wasn't just Sabrina keeping secrets, her brother also hadn't dished on the fact he and Catherine were no longer an item. She smiled at the thought that sprung to mind—of locking these two into a room and not let them out until they talked it through. It would probably be a long wait.

"Well." Reena stood. "I've said what I came here to say. Have a nice day, Mary. And a nice life."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. This is goodbye."

Mary sucked in a quick breath. Went for it. "Do you still love my brother?"

Her heart in her throat, Reena lowered the sunglasses onto her nose and walked away without saying another word.

Mary grinned. Oh, yeah. Sabrina still loved her brother. The big question now was whether she should tell Steve about this conversation or not. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and called him. No answer. Typical. He falls off the grid for a couple of days and when he finally comes back, he doesn't answer his phone.

She thought better than leaving a message on his voice mail. Something like this couldn't be discussed over messages, but in person. She would try again later.

Then she remembered the little tidbit about her being Marc's date for tonight's gala. Which meant he didn't have a date, which meant he'd invited Sabrina and she'd refused. Which also meant, if she knew Marcus Hawthorne, that he was planning something.

Her grin grew bigger. If Marc was planning something it would go down at the ball. He would not have gone all out on a fancy event if he didn't have something huge in mind.

She slipped the phone back into her pocket, picked up the book. She'd wait until the ball. There was still plenty of time to tell her brother everything later. Sabrina wasn't leaving until tomorrow morning.

One last thought went through her mind, before she started reading again. That she couldn't wait to see what happened at the party.


	42. Chapter 41: Ka koi kuaʻana

A tissue froze in mid-air as her doorbell rang. Reena glanced at the clock on her phone, paused the DVD, and wiped her teary eyes, wondering who her evening visitor might be.

Marc's smile almost blinded her when she opened her door. He was in jeans and an untucked white shirt, holding two boxes—one large, the other much smaller.

His smile disappeared as he saw her red-rimmed eyes. He looked over her shoulder, saw the tissues on her coffee table, the soft glow coming from the TV, and immediately knew what ailed her.

"You're watching _The Lion King_ again."

She glared. "It's my last night in Hawaii, I can do whatever I please, even watch movies that make me cry."

He suspected she didn't have to watch a movie to accomplish that. "You could spend your last night in Hawaii a little differently."

"Yeah?" She crossed her arms over her chest, a pose that reminded him of Steve McGarrett. "How?"

"Dancing and being merry."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to that stupid ball with you."

"Why not?"

Another eye-roll. "Because I don't want to go—"

"Sure you do."

"—because I got you a date. I called you about it earlier—"

"I want to go with you."

"—and because I don't have anything to wear."

He grinned and thrust the two boxes at her. "You do now."

She glanced down at the two 'gifts', back up to him, and knew she'd walked straight into his trap. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

He shrugged. "There's still time. I have the tux in the car. Don't you want to look at what I brought you?"

"No."

He chuckled, grabbed the two boxes out of her hands, pushed past her, and kicked the door closed. "Of course you do."

He put the boxes onto the coffee table, shut down her DVD player and TV, and looked at her expectantly. "Go ahead."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but she couldn't resist. She went for the shoes first, she was a woman after all. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sandals with their needle-thin heel and thin, thine-stone encrusted toe- and ankle straps, each with a little bow in the back.

"The bows are supposed to be removable," Marc supplied, though the dazed look in her eyes told him she wasn't listening. He grinned. She was hooked. Now, for the dress...

She lifted the shoe-box, her eyes zeroing in on the logo on the dress-box. She glared at her brother. "Pippa? Really? No wonder she emailed me two days ago, asking whether I still wore the same size."

He nodded. "I needed reinforcements. Won't you open it?"

She shook her head, looked away, a film of tears blurring her vision.

"Why not?"

"Because I know I'll have to try it on and I won't go to that ball of yours."

"Why not?"

She looked at him, her glare furious behind her tears. "Why? Why?" She shoved at his chest. "Because the _USS Enterprise_ is still docked in Pearl. Because he'll be there with her, and as much as I want him to be happy, I just can't bear to look at them together." She sniffed. "I just want to wallow a little and then leave this damn island and never see him again."

"And what will you do, huh? You quit from DHS, so what will you do, Reen." He shook his head. "Don't give me that look. You're not the only one with contacts. Answer my question. What will you do?"

She shrugged. "I'll find something."

He pulled her into his arms, hugged her close, kissed the crown of her head. "Okay, fine, leave. But tonight is not meant for wallowing. Come with me. Whatever comes, whatever happens, you'll bear it with your head held high." He held her at arm's length, looked into her eyes. "Reen, come to the ball with me."

"Marc—"

"Please."

"Why?" she asked. "Why do you want so bad for me to go?"

He had a very good reason, but he'd be damned if he told her what it was. He'd also be dead if he told her what it was before he got her to the party. "Because you're my sister. Because I love you. And because I want to see you in that dress."

Her gaze moved to the still-closed box. She lifted the lid, removed the top sheet of silk paper...and gasped. "Damn."

"You haven't even seen it yet."

"I don't have to." It was the model she'd admired—still in its sketched form—the last time she visited her friend Pippa's salon.

A crisp white corner poking out of the edge of the box caught her attention. She grabbed the piece of paper, pulled it out, and grinned at her friend's fancy handwriting.

_ENJOY IT AND MAKE ME PROUD._

_LOVE, PIP_

Reena lifted the fabric, let it flow through her fingers. Made up her mind. "Fine," she sighed, suddenly feeling like she was walking to her doom. "I'll go."

"Yay." Before she could continue, he interrupted. "And don't worry about anything else. You have an hour and a half of pampering awaiting you."

She frowned, suspicions of her brother's possible hidden agenda rearing their ugly head. Why all this insistence she join him for the party? Why the elaborate dress and sinfully yummy shoes? Why the pampering? What did he have in mind? What was he planning?

Marc could see she was starting to think. Probably about reconsidering, about any ulterior motives he might have...If she only knew. And he couldn't allow her to reconsider or think too hard or too long. So he grabbed the two boxes, tucked them under his arm, firmly clasped her wrist with the other hand, and pulled her toward the door.

"C'mon, Reen. Your fairy godmother awaits. And this one's magic lasts longer than just midnight."

.

.

A little more than two hours later, when Marc helped her into the limo, she felt like Cinderella. The dress and the shoes had looked incredible in their boxes, but on her, combined with the simple hair-do and even simpler make-up—God, what a difference.

And the fact the dress was a Philippa Covington model just added to the magical allure of the evening. She grinned, squealing like a school girl on the inside, it wouldn't do to do so aloud. This wasn't the only Pippa's model she possessed, but those in her closet were all cute little cocktail dresses or mix-and-match-style suits. All perks of knowing the famous designer since school days. She'd even brought a cocktail dress with her for a possible fancy occasion, but the little black dress would've looked severely out of place at a formal ball.

"You ready?" Marc interrupted her thoughts as the limo slowly rolled away from the curb.

"No."

He chuckled. "It's a little late to reconsider."

She shook her head. "Not really. I could still jump out of the car."

"And ruin the dress? Pippa would never forgive you."

"True. Okay, I'm ready, but we're late. What will your guests think?"

He shrugged. "It's expected. Hawaiian time."


	43. Chapter 42: He 'ike lono

_Lanikuhonua Estate, Honolulu, 9.25 p.m._

The setting was very romantic, and not at all pretentious. Line upon line of little white lights hung around the spacious lawn, twined around wooden veranda pillars, forming a flimsy barrier between tall palm trees illuminated by discretely placed white spotlights. The chairs and tables were covered in white cloth with simple arrangements of small tea-lights as centerpieces. There was no stage, no orchestra, only a dance floor at the right of the dining setting with moody jazz crooning out of well-hidden speakers.

Steve hung on the outskirts of the crowd, consisting mainly of uniforms, Navy and Marine alike, nursing a beer with Mary, and the Five-0s keeping him company, when Catherine Rollins approached their small group, a smile on her lips.

Steve let his gaze run appreciatively over her. She looked amazing in a crimson strapless ball-gown, the flared skirt swishing with every step and he experienced a pang of regret when all he felt upon seeing her was the usual admiration a man felt for a beautiful woman. There was no pain at their relationship ending, no surge of desire at the sight of her naked shoulders and the hint of cleavage.

"Hi, guys," she greeted, hugged Kono and kissed Danny, Chin and him on the cheek. "You look great. And you, Steve, dashing as always."

He looked into her eyes, thankful she wasn't faking it. She was genuinely happy to see them, to see him, there was no rancor, no hard feelings.

"And you're as beautiful as ever, Cath," he complimented her.

"Thanks." She ran her hands down the bodice of her gown. "It was very last minute."

"It looks good on you," he asserted.

"Your date's one lucky bastard," Danny put it. "He has the most beautiful woman on his arm tonight."

Cath blushed slightly, remembering her date using those exact words earlier, when they left for the ball. "I think that's a very subjective observation, Danny." She looked at Mary and Kono. "You have two gorgeous women with you tonight, I'm sure they don't appreciate you admiring someone else."

Mary and Kono disagreed and the three women gushed about each other's gowns, discussed designers, styles, and shoes.

"Who are you looking for?" Steve asked as he noticed Catherine looking around curiously.

"Sabrina. Another beautiful woman, wouldn't you agree?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I can't wait to see her in a gown."

"You'll wait a long time, then," he said. "She's not coming."

Cath was taken aback. She'd fully expected the two to have talked things through. "Why not?"

Steve shrugged, keeping an impassive expression. "She's leaving tomorrow. Where's your date?"

She almost got whiplash at the rapid change of topic, but she got the hint. "Waiting for the governor to show up. Apparently they went to school together."

With impeccable timing, Joe White joined their little group with another, strangely familiar, silver-haired man in tow. "Steve, gang, this is Sebastian Hawthorne. Seb, these are Catherine Rollins, Danny Williams, Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua, Mary McGarrett and her brother Steve," he finished with a pointed look.

At a closer look, as the man was shaking his hand vigorously, Steve could see the family resemblance. "Nice to meet you."

The man checked the honors pinned over Steve's heart. "I see you were pretty good at what you used to do," he said with a grin. "My son talks about you a lot. Your team really made an impression on him, McGarrett. That seldom happens."

Steve refrained from telling the man his son had also made an impression on him. And not in a good way, so he merely nodded.

The usual small-talk started, on their opinion on the decorations—upon which Danny commented on the abundance of white—their enjoyment of the evening so far, the peculiar absence of their host et cetera.

When the appropriate amount of time passed, Steve was certain Hawthorne would move on, however the man was either oblivious to Steve's transference of dislike or simply didn't care. He wouldn't budge.

"When Joe here told me I'd get to meet you, Steve—you don't mind if I call you Steve, do you?—I simply couldn't wait. It's great to be able to talk to yet another SEAL around here. What's left of my friends, beside Joe, spend their retirement in Florida, my only son defied tradition by joining the Marines, and—" Hawthorne spread his arms, encompassing the uniforms milling around "—these Navy boys have no idea what a SEAL really is and I won't even mention the M-word again."

"You were a SEAL?"

"Yep. SOTIC with Team Two. Nam. Met your father there."

Joe grinned conspiratorially at Hawthorne, and the others were silent, letting them talk, and while Steve appreciated the opportunity to talk to another SEAL who's worked on 'the other side', he really didn't want to bond with Hawthorne. Call him petty, but he couldn't help it.

And Hawthorne was still talking, "Makes you wonder if it isn't genetic, you know. My son might've veered off the path, but my daughter sure didn't get that memo, falling for a SEAL and all."

"Marcus doesn't have a sister," Mary interrupted.

"I also never heard of the governor having any other siblings," Chin supplied.

Sebastian Hawthorne smiled. "Yeah, well, that's because I was stupid. My father told me an illegitimate child would ruin my career, so we kept in under wraps. Then, her mother died, and the kid went into the system..."

They all stared as the old man's eyes misted over and Joe patted his back gently.

"Then, one day, my son brings home a stray. A girl, a true fighter. They went to the same school and they ended up in detention together. She was ten, my son almost fifteen. A bunch of guys had picked on her and she'd started fighting. When he'd tried to intervene, she'd slugged him just as the principal had arrived. The other ran, the two idiots got detention. So what does my son do, he brings the kid home."

He chuckled, though it sounded more like he was choking on his emotions. "As soon as I saw her, I knew she was Laney's kid. My kid. She'd been bouncing around in foster care for years. Of course she didn't want to have anything to do with me—she still hasn't melted entirely toward me, to be frank, but she adored her big brother from the start. And he adored her. They've been inseparable ever since."

"So why isn't this public knowledge?" Mary asked, a bit angry Marcus had never told her about a sister. Sure, they hadn't dated for long, but still. "It's been like twenty years."

"She doesn't want it made public. She's afraid it might damage his career. We've been telling her it didn't matter, but she's stubborn. Takes it from my side of the family," Hawthorne said proudly. "Besides, with her kind of work, it's best not to have any connections."

"Is she in the military, too?" Chin asked.

"Nope."

"CIA?" Kono ventured.

Hawthorne shook his head. "Not really. You can take your pick, though. She was a top-choice for any interagency deal." He grinned, a picture of a proud father. "She's a firecracker, I tell you. Fluent in seven languages, degree in criminology and cryptology, don't-know-what-color belt in Taekwondo, she's even learned Krav Maga, an excellent shot... You name it. Bright, stubborn, intense, goal-oriented...Until, bam, one day she falls head-over-heels for a Navy SEAL. She hasn't been the same since."

"What happened? Did he die?" Mary asked, clutching her brother's arm.

"Oh no, he's very much alive, but a crack opened the day she met him. A crack someone exploited ruthlessly a few years back." Hawthorne grew silent, staring into the lines of white lights crisscrossing above them. "You see, she was in the middle of a mission. Top secret, big, and global. Someone decided they didn't want the mission to succeed, so they went for the brains. My daughter. And they used the guy she was in love with as leverage. They threatened his life and she gave in. She thought she could protect him, though he could take care of himself—the guy was a SEAL, I told her—but she wouldn't listen. She gave them everything they wanted, broke it off with the guy, then went on a suicide mission to get back the intel and eliminate the threat."

Hawthorne looked at the stunned faces around him. "A tough cookie, my girl. She went MIA, and when we all thought she was dead, she came back a few months later, and never spoke of it since. Her superiors must have known about it, though, because she even got a commendation. Not that she cared for it."

"Then what?" Catherine asked, her eyes misty.

Hawthorne shrugged. "You'd have to ask her. All I know is she quit her job and didn't resume the relationship with the guy. I wish I had him in front of me, look him in the eye and shake his hand for being man enough to capture my little girl's heart. To tell him not to be stupid and that if he still loves her, he should take another shot at it. Because she sure still loves him." He looked pointedly at Steve. "You and me both know we SEALs are tough, he should've fought for her, tried to learn the truth, made her see that he was willing to see it through no matter what. Don't you agree?"

Before Steve could say anything, Hawthorne looked toward the veranda. "Ah, our host has finally arrived. And with a stunner on his arm. He takes after me, you know," he finished with a grin.

Steve turned and almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of the woman whose hand was tucked firmly in the crook of Marcus Hawthorne's elbow.


	44. Chapter 43: Kauwili

"Welcome to Lanikuhonua, where Heaven meets the Earth," a senior member of the staff said with an appreciative glance down her body.

"Thanks," Reena replied, resisting the urge to look down and see whether there was anything poking out of her dress. The dark-blue chiffon was perfect for the A-line gown, falling beautifully from the waist, but it was the lighter blue beaded strap on the empire waistline that extended up over her shoulders and crossed at the back that could present a problem, pushing her breasts up into the bodice. One wrong move and she might make a lot of guys here tonight very happy.

She surreptitiously tested her footing. There shouldn't be any problems despite the height of her heels. She knew how to walk on such 'stilts', she could probably even run in them if need arose, and kick some serious butt. Which, of course, could not be said about the gown. It had been crafted for dancing, not fighting. The flimsy material of both the straps and the gown would probably not sustain any major distress.

She relaxed, threw up a little prayer for keeping the gown in one piece and letting it stay on her without flashing anybody, and smiled at the guy that was still staring. It was obvious he really liked what he saw.

"Thank you, that would be all," Marc snapped from beside her, giving the man a pointed look, until the guy finally caught the drift and took off.

"Did you have to be so rude?" she asked as the few media members seemed to come out of a fugue state and started snapping pictures.

"He was staring."

"That's why we're born with eyes, you know."

"Not for that kind of staring." Marcus blinked, trying to clear his vision, when the photographers finally retreated. "He was starving-staring."

She laughed. "I don't want to know."

"He had all the reason, Reen," he murmured as he placed a hand at the small of her back and steered her toward their table. "You look absolutely amazing."

"You're biased, but thank you."

He chuckled. "I'm not the only one. There's a certain someone there, on the edge of the dance floor, that has already stripped you with his eyes."

She followed his gaze and her heart lodged somewhere in her throat at the sight of Steve McGarrett in all his Navy-uniformed glory complete with medals and honors pinned over his heart. She hadn't been exaggerating earlier when she'd told him he always looked good in formal wear. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

And his eyes were blazing as he stared at her. Blazing with a mixture of emotions impossible to decipher. And he was so serious, his gaze focused as that of a predator upon its prey. It was making her uncomfortable, so she ventured a small smile.

Then the crowd parted just right and she saw who stood beside him. Her smile disappeared. Catherine Rollins looked incredible in the crimson strapless gown, the fair skin of her neck and shoulders contrasting becomingly with her dark hair scooped up at the back of her head.

Reena felt her stomach roll, felt her eyes sting, but she fought the nausea and tears back. What had her brother said earlier? Come what may, she'd bear it with her head held high. So she smiled again, gave them both a little wave, and turned back to her brother.

Marc smiled at her with pride. She was hanging in there like a champ. He only hoped the same could be said when the evening was through.

"What is _he_ doing here?" she hissed.

Marc nodded to the man in question. "Well, he _is_ our father."

"That's debatable."

"Reen," he admonished. "When will you stop with this pretend-grudge?"

"Pretend?"

"Yes, pretend," he replied patiently. "Because we both know you've forgiven him. Quite a while ago."

"There's no reason to tell him that. I just love the suspense," she whispered conspiratorially, making him smile.

Then his smile turned into a grin as he spotted his old school-mate over the top of her head. "Nate, it's so good to see you."

Reena turned and smiled at the newcomer. "Hey, handsome."

Nathan Westin grinned at his two friends. "Look at you two, picture perfect as ever. And still inseparable, I see." Then, in his usual exuberant fashion, he grabbed Reena around her waist, lifted her, and gave her a twirl. "You haven't changed at all, Reen. Still short."

Back on her feet, Reena prayed nothing had moved below her neck. "You haven't changed, either. When will you stop grabbing people like they weigh nothing?"

"You _do_ weigh nothing. And look good enough to eat." He gave her a leisurely once-over. "That dress should be illegal the way it looks on you."

She made a small curtsy. "Why, thank you. Always a charmer."

Marc decided to intervene, feeling a little left out. That had always happened when these two were together, they just got back to their school-days camaraderie. They've been inseparable in school and it showed every time they met afterward. "Simmer it down, you two."

Reena poked her tongue out at her brother, then finally really looked at Nate. "Golly, Westin, look at you. So dashing in your uniform." She grinned at her brother. "I just love the Navy uniforms. Nothing like it."

Marc would not take that bait. "But of course you do, Reen. Why is that, exactly?"

Nate nodded. "Well, from what I heard, this one would need a SEAL trident for you to really appreciate it fully. Unfortunately I can't hold my breath for more than a minute."

"When do we meet your date?" she asked quickly, rolled her eyes as the two men grinned like idiots. "I want to make sure she deserves you."

Nate grinned. "Of course she does. And even if you think she doesn't, I don't care. I've waited three years for her and then it took me weeks to convince her to go out with me. You know, working together and all that crap. But I did it and I'm committed, nothing you could say would sway me."

"Let me be the judge of that. Where is she?"

"She's waiting for me to introduce me to some friends." He nodded toward the edge of the dance floor. "There she is, talking to your buddy Joe. The lady in red."

Reena blinked. The only woman in read currently talking to Joe—"Catherine Rollins is your date?"

"You know her?"

"You could say that."

"That's interesting," Marc murmured beside her. "Very interesting," he added, when Reena shot him a poisonous look.

"You said you waited three years for her?" Reena asked.

Nate nodded. "Give or take a couple of months. She was in a relationship, completely oblivious to my existence. Then she broke it off with the guy a month or so ago, and I seized the opportunity."

"_She_ broke it off?"

Nate looked at her. She sounded like she was choking. "Yeah. Lucky me."

Marc couldn't believe his luck. This evening was shaping up to be a real success. Though looking at his sister, one wouldn't say that. Sabrina looked ready to collapse.

"Anyway, as soon as she was back on the market I pounced. Of course, she needed some convincing, but—" Nate grinned at Catherine across the crowd. "—there she is. And if you two will excuse me, I have to go there before she comes to fetch me."

"Very interesting indeed," Marc murmured again, when Nate left them. "Reen, you look a little pale. Come sit down before you keel over."

He pulled her toward their table, pushed her down into a chair and hailed a waiter for a glass of water.

.

.

When Nate joined her, Catherine quickly made the introductions, hoping to breeze him away before Steve quartered him. The look in those blue eyes promised murder. Nate was either blind or, knowing him, simply loved a challenge. So he lingered.

"It was great seeing Reen again, I'll tell you that." He looked at Catherine. "She told me she knows you."

She nodded weakly, trying to think of anything to get him away from the group.

"God, that's one amazing woman."

"How come you know her?" Steve growled.

"Oh, we went to school together. Boy, was I crushing on her back then. Don't tell her that, though," he continued with a conspiratorial wink. "She'd feel bad for not knowing and I'd feel bad for making her feel bad and Marc would have my hide for making her feel bad and then she'd feel even more bad...And I'm babbling, sorry."

"Protective, is he?" Steve asked.

Nate nodded, seemingly oblivious to what was going on between the lines. "Like a papa bear. Ever since school, I tell you. They're inseparable."

"They went to school together?"

Catherine frowned at Steve suddenly dejected tone.

"Yup. He even kicked my ass—pardon the language, ladies—for making her cry." He smiled sheepishly. "And then she kicked his ass for kicking mine, because it hadn't been me that made her cry. And she wasn't crying because she was sad, but because she was angry, and I'm babbling again. Sorry, I can't help it, I'm so happy to get to see them again."

Catherine patted his arm affectionately. He was so sweet when he was embarrassed. And so cute. And unbelievably handsome. She couldn't believe what she's missed in the past three years. Now she could officially say something good has come from her breakup with Steve.

Then Joe White suggested they all go sit, apologized he wouldn't be sitting with them—his friend Sebastian Hawthorne had invited him to the main table, and Catherine placed her hand in the crook of her date's arm and let him escort her to the table. A table they were sharing with Steve and the rest of the crew.

She smiled. It was always good to have a familiar face sitting beside you, even if it was a sad one.


	45. Chapter 44: 'Oia'i'o

She'd lied.

She'd told him she wasn't coming to the ball, yet there she was, sitting prettily next to the governor, wearing a dress made for a goddess, looking absolutely amazing in his favorite color. Steve wanted to hit something or someone and the most likely candidate was Catherine's date, Lieutenant Nathan Westin. Not because he was there with Catherine. The man looked at her the way she was meant to be looked at—with utter adoration. No, the reason he wanted to hit Westin was because of the way he'd picked Reena up earlier and twirled her around.

He wanted to smash the guy's face in because he'd touched the woman Steve wanted to touch. Because he'd held the woman Steve wanted to hold. And because she'd smiled at him, the way Steve wanted to be smiled at.

Damn, but he was pathetic. He'd decided a week ago, after the shooting in that clearing, to throw in the towel, and now, here he was, munching on whatever he'd gotten from the buffet table, feeling jealous and angry. And itching for a fight.

Which Catherine had obviously seen, directing her date as far away from him as the round table allowed.

.

.

Reena sat between her brother and her father, the food—whatever it was—completely tasteless, feeling Steve's stare with every fiber of her being. He hasn't stopped staring ever since he sat down at his table and she was starting to get the urge to look at him and flip him off.

It wouldn't do of course, but she was itching to do it anyway.

And she'd really appreciate it if Sebastian would stop prattling already. It was just small-talk, nothing overly personal or revealing, but he was really starting to get on her nerves.

And it was then that Marc came to the rescue—finally. "Want to dance to make room for desert?"

She didn't want to dance—everybody, and that meant Steve McGarrett—would get to look at her even more closely, but she'd rather dance than empty her wineglass down Sebastian's shirt.

As soon as they hit the dance floor, the smooth jazzy soundtrack was replaced by the love-song from one of her favorite Disney movies and she knew without a smidgen of a doubt her brother had helped in the soundtrack selection for the evening.

"Weasel," she hissed.

He grinned. "But you love me anyway." And then he swept her in a long arc around the dance floor, making her forget for the duration of their dance the whispers and the stares. Forget all stares but one. Those intent blue eyes followed her every move.

Mary also observed the dancing couple, debating whether to tell her brother what Sabrina had disclosed earlier or keep mum. What would hurt him more? Keep thinking he'd been dumped for Marcus Hawthorne or learning the truth while still not knowing the real reason for the breakup? And would he even believe her?

She watched as Marc twirled Sabrina on the dance floor, whisper something in her ear that made her laugh, and kept searching for clues as to what the real relationship between them might be. They didn't act like lovers, not even now, merely very good friends, and she wondered how she hadn't seen that before.

Because she hadn't wanted to, she observed with chagrin. She hadn't wanted to see and she couldn't see because she was directly impacted by their relationship. While an objective observer...She met Catherine's eyes over the table. The woman smiled slightly and Mary realized Catherine had probably seen it that first day. As had probably everybody else around their table, Westin excluded, since he knew them both from before.

The only one still oblivious was her brother, who cursed quietly under his breath when the dance ended and Marcus kissed the back of Sabrina's hand before escorting her back to their table.

Steve was looking for an opening to leave the party—albeit knowing Mary would be furious if he didn't dance with her. If he saw Hawthorne dance with Sabrina one more time, he would toss his cookies. And he wasn't sticking around for desert either.

He lifted the napkin off his lap, ready to make up an excuse, when that handsome bastard stood, picked up a microphone from the table in front of him, and turned to address his guests.

"Good evening ,everyone, and thank you for coming." Marc smiled. It was time. "I hope you're enjoying your evening, but before we get to the desert—which is my favorite, by the way—I'd like to say a few words. I won't be long, I promise."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Ever since I came to this beautiful island, I've been fascinated by the language, especially one word—_ohana._ It means family. And so much more. You see, family is more than just blood relationship, it means support and sacrifice for the ones you love. Being honest with the ones you love. And I've decided I'm done with keeping secrets."

Steve frowned as he saw Sabrina reach out and grab Hawthorne's hand, shake her head. What was going on?

"You see," Marc continued. "There's this woman, this amazing, beautiful, stubborn young woman that means the world to me. And she's been keeping a secret for almost twenty years. Why? Because she felt she owed it to me. To protect me. But I don't want to be protected anymore. So I decided that tonight, I'm done with secrets."

Sabrina's eyes filled with tears and her lower lip wobbled.

"There's been speculation about my relationship with Sabrina Logan," Marc said, brushing his fingers down his sister's cheek. "Not from the media, because I'm apparently not that interesting, but from those who've know the two of us a long time, some even from our school days, and those who just met us. A lot of wrong conclusions have been drawn, conclusions she should've corrected, conclusions that hurt. Especially the people who love us, who _we_ love. But she kept mum because she wanted to protect all the people she cares about, all those she loves. And when she could finally tell the truth, she still kept the secret. Because she was scared. Scared of being rejected, scared of getting hurt, scared of getting her heart broken.

"And I've had enough. So I decided to give you all the truth. Because I owe it to her, who's always been there for me, through good and bad. I love this woman before me with all my heart, but she isn't my lover, my fiancé, my wife. or the mother of my secret child. She _is_ the secret child. My father's secret child," he said, pointedly meeting Steve McGarrett's shocked gaze.

"Sabrina Logan is my sister."


	46. Chapter 45: Pa'akikī

"I knew it", Nate whooped beside her, echoing the sentiments heard from other tables around them. "I just knew it," he repeated, looking at Catherine with twinkling eyes. "Not _knew_ it knew it, but I suspected. God, looking back it was so _obvious_." He slapped his forehead. "What an idiot. I have to go. Sorry," he added apologetically, kissed her softly on the mouth and went to join Marcus, Sabrina, and Hawthorne Senior at their table.

Cath ventured a quick glance at Steve. He sat there, his face an unreadable mask, as he stared as Sabrina, now enclosed in her brother's arms, brushing stray tears off her cheeks. Catherine shook her head. It should've been him there, holding Sabrina. What the heck was he still doing sitting around?

"Now it all makes sense," Danny said and looked at his friend. "Doesn't it?"

Steve pushed his chair back and stood. "Excuse me."

Instead of going to Sabrina, he veered off toward the bar. Danny and Chin exchanged glances and with murmured apologies followed.

"It _was_ obvious, wasn't it?" Mary whispered, looking at Kono.

Kono shrugged. "It was obvious there was nothing romantic between them, yes."

"Catherine?"

Cath smiled slightly and nodded. "Not the real relationship," she answered. "But the rest...Yes."

"Bu we didn't see."

Cath watched as Sabrina offered a wobbly smile at Marcus and Nate, and dashed toward the ladies' room.

"If you'll excuse me," Cath murmured. "I'll be right back."

.

.

She'd cried. She almost never cried, yet she'd cried like a baby, when Marc announced their true relationship tonight. Cried because he'd revealed something personal, cried because he'd been so incredibly sweet afterward, kneeling beside her chair and kissing her cheek...Cried because she was relieved it was all over. Cried because she had no idea what would happen next and feared the worst.

So here she was, in the vast ladies' room—pardon, powder room—staring at herself in the mirror, wondering at the minimal damage caused to her makeup. Whatever they used at the Hilton spa, it was miraculous stuff. She certainly didn't look like a woman who'd cried recently.

She straightened, when the door to the powder room opened and Catherine Rollins swept in.

"Hi," she said. "What a reveal."

Reena just looked at her.

"Yes, well, I imagined something like that, you know," Catherine continued, fixing her hair. "There was no romantic vibe between you two. I wonder how Steve couldn't see, but I guess it's easier to watch from a distance." She shrugged.

Reena thought of what to say. Compliment the dress, perhaps? Nah, she hated small talk. "I heard you're here with Nate."

"Yes, I am." Catherine looked at her, wondering where the conversation was heading.

"I hope you're as committed as he is."

"What's that to you?"

"He's been my best friend for ages." An eyebrow arched in challenge. "If you hurt him, remember I can find you and I can and _will_hurt you."

Catherine smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

Debating whether to say more, Catherine decided against it—let the two idiots figure it out—and opened the door, when Sabrina's voice caught up with her. "Why did you break it off?"

Catherine looked at her over her shoulder. "It got crowded in the end and I didn't really belong."

"What does that mean?"

"Why don't you ask him?" And with a wink, she left the room.

Reena frowned slightly, shrugged and followed, only to encounter her brother lying in wait just outside the door.

"What is it?" she asked at the sight of the grave expression on his face. "Did someone die while I was in there?"

Marc shook his head, his insides in a tight knot. "I need a favor."

"Well, you went and blurted our secret to everyone, so I shouldn't feel magnanimous." She smiled. "But you're my brother and you know I'd do pretty much everything for you. Damn you. What do you need?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Could you talk to Mary?"

"I did this morning."

"No. Now."

"What? Why?"

He cleared his throat. "Because...Because I'm too afraid to."

She put her hands to her hips. "So you admit you're a coward."

"Yes."

"Willing to put it in writing?"

"Reen."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll talk to her. I'll get you the girl. Again."

He grinned. "I owe you. Whatever you want. Name it."

"Your firstborn sounds too harsh. I'll let you know." She shooed him off. "Now go on, mingle, and let me work."

.

.

Mary sat at the deserted table, playing with her chocolate mousse, when her skin was brushed by a faintly perfumed breeze as Sabrina dropped into the chair Steve had recently occupied.

"Hey, Mary."

Mary instinctively responded to the woman's smile. "Hey."

"Sorry to interrupt your sparring match with the desert, but Marc sent me here to mediate."

Mary felt her smile widen. "Did he now?"

Reena nodded. "He'd put it differently, of course. He begged me to talk to you because he's too afraid to. His words. I have no idea what he's so afraid of, it's not like you could hurt him physically—though if you want to, I'd be more than happy to give you some pointers."

"Maybe he's afraid, because he's kept a secret from me for so long."

"My fault," Reena quickly said. "All my fault, so don't hold it against him. I didn't want him to tell, because I wasn't really ready to be Sebastian Hawthorne's daughter, and I didn't want his career to suffer, and I certainly didn't want him to suffer for his connection to me."

"I know."

"And—What?"

Mary smiled. "Why don't you go back to your brother and suggest he might invite me to dance? And you might want to have a little conversation with _my_brother. Or does the fright of talking to the ones you love run in the family as taking wrong assumptions runs in mine?"

Reena looked away. "Somewhat, but the conversation with your brother would..."

"Take some more revealing of secrets?"

Reena nodded. "And he most certainly won't be as magnanimous as you have been toward Marc."

"Do you blame him?"

"No. I don't. He'd be right to." A sad smile. "I'll just go fetch Marc."

"And talk to Steve," Mary called after her, just as Reena met the man in question's blue gaze across the crowd.

His expression was impassive, his eyes blank, and before she could even attempt a smile, he turned and walked away, away from the crowd, away from the dance floor, away from the little white lights...Away from her.

"I think we've already said what we had to say to each," she replied over her shoulder and went in search of her brother.

Mary shook her head, watching her brother's retreating back with sad eyes. That damned McGarrett pride. Didn't he get it?

.

.

Joe caught up with him on the beach. "Care to tell me why you're out here brooding, son?"

Steve, his hands thrust into his pockets, was silent, looking out over the sea.

"Fine, don't talk," Joe said. "I don't need you to talk, I need you to listen. The girl loves you. She might have a strange way of showing it, but she loves you. More than anything."

"What do you know?"

"A lot more than you think." Joe sighed. "Weren't you there earlier, when Seb told the story? Weren't you listening?"

"Everybody can tell a story."

A soft curse. "But no one could be more dense than a proud man. You wanted to know why she left you, now you do. She broke it off to protect you, to keep you alive. That day in the clearing, she didn't want you anywhere close to Wo Fat. Do you remember how she went wild when Wo Fat pointed his gun at you? Remember everything that happened, now and before, everything that was said, everything that was done."

"She didn't tell me. She didn't trust me."

"She trusted you more than anyone else. She let you in, Steve. She let you see behind that famous wall of hers."

"Yeah," Steve chuckled bitterly. "She still didn't tell me she had a brother."

"She had her reasons. Wrong ones, but she believed otherwise. Yes, she should've told you Marc was her brother. But then what? She would've done the same, she still would've broken it off, and you'd only think of some other reason why she did it. It's not like you desperately wanted to know. You just let her walk away." Joe sighed. "We all make mistakes, Steve. She did, but so are you doing now."

Steve kept silent.

"Don't let her walk away again, son. I know you love her. Don't let her get away. Don't let stupid pride cloud your judgment. Don't let her go."

He's said his piece, he's said enough. He couldn't make the decision for Steve. All he could do was go back, grab a beer and hope for the best. He clapped his hand onto Steve shoulder. "Let your heart guide you, son, not your pride. And for the record, she quit DHS."

And he walked away, leaving Steve alone to stare at the sea.


	47. Chapter 46: Ha'aheo ā 'apo

**Author's Note:** Almost there...

* * *

><p><em>"Maybe I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyway."<em>

Steve flinched. Remembering what she's said to him ever since coming back, looking at it from this new angle, it suddenly made sense. If she'd cheated on him, she would never have asked for forgiveness, because if places were reversed, she'd never forgive.

_"My friend was willing to do anything to save a loved one, even if it meant handing over a lethal weapon."_

He'd asked her who they'd threatened, whether they'd threatened Hawthorne.

_"Yes, they threatened the man I love."_

They'd threatened _him_. She'd told him the truth, everything he asked, she'd answered. Maybe not fully, letting out details and names...

_"Why don't you tell me the truth for once?"_

But she had told him the truth. And she had been so right.

_"I don't want to sound like a cliché, but you couldn't handle the truth, Steven."_

Now that he knew it all, he couldn't handle it. And she had known that.

_"There's too much...Between us, I mean...We both know I can't stay."_

And still she'd protected him. With her brother.

_"If you intend to stand there, heaping blame on people who don't deserve it, I don't want you here."_

With Wo Fat, because now, looking back, it had been obvious she hadn't wanted him there in that clearing, it had been in her eyes when she'd looked at him, she _had_gone wild when the man had pointed his gun at him...And she'd been willing to die so he could capture the man who had had his father killed.

_"You should've taken him alive."_

And he'd replied it had been worth it. It _had_. Because no criminal, no murderer, was worthy of her life.

And after everything that happened, after his insults—he flinched again, remembering what he'd said to her—his inability to see her again after the clearing, she still protected him until the end.

_"Somehow your father's name never made it into that particular report. Very strange indeed."_

And why? Because she loved him.

_"Head-over-heels for a Navy SEAL. She hasn't been the same since."_

And when confronted, she'd once more told the truth, only he had been too stupid and too jealous to listen.

_"Do you love him?"_  
><em>"Yes."<em>  
><em>"More than you loved me?"<em>  
><em>"It's different."<em>

It was evident in her every look, in her every touch, it had been in her every kiss, her every sigh that night. And he'd walked away, not wanting to listen, not wanting to know, burying his head in the sand.

She hadn't been honest with him, true, but she had had her reasons, valid ones. What about him? He also hadn't been honest with her, letting her think he was still seeing Catherine, while he'd been waiting for her to reveal her secrets even as he was blind to the truth that's been right in front of his eyes from the start.

Now, looking back, he could see there had been nothing romantic between Sabrina and the governor. They'd smiled, they'd laughed together, they'd held hands, they'd hugged that day in the clearing...They hadn't kissed.

_"Sabrina Logan is my sister."_

The first thing he would've done was kiss her when she was safe. But that was for a lover to do. Not a brother. He _had_kissed her that day in the clearing, hard and quick, but a kiss nonetheless. While her brother had merely hugged her.

Jesus. He should've seen it that day. And he hadn't. He was such an idiot.

_"I wish I had him in front of me, look him in the eye and shake his hand for being man enough to capture my little girl's heart. To tell him not to be stupid and that if he still loves her, he should take another shot at it. Because she sure still loves him."_

God. Both her father and Joe had told him to not be stupid, to not let pride blind him, and what had he done? Ran away.

Just as he'd done before.

_"We SEALs are tough, he should've fought for her, tried to learn the truth, made her see that he was willing to see it through no matter what."_

When their eyes had met over the crowd, there's been a little sliver of hope in hers, but it had died when she'd seen the expression on his face. Who would blame her?

But he was done being an idiot, he was done being stupid, and he was done hoping she'd come back to him. She _had_. She'd done her part, now it was time for him to do his.

He grinned and strode back toward the woman he loved. The woman who, if he had anything to do with it, wasn't leaving tomorrow morning.

.

.

Steve strode back into the light-decorated courtyard just as Sabrina was shimmying on the dance floor with Cath's date. She looked happy and relaxed, a bright smile curving her lips, but at a closer look—after he'd stomped his jealousy into submission, that is—he could see it was all a mask. Her eyes were sad, the corners of her mouth pinched. The smile was false, the cheery attitude was false. And all because of him.

He stepped forward, but the governor, who'd been dancing with Mary—at least those two had quickly resolved their issues—left his dancing partner and approached him with a menacing scowl, with Mary, of course, following quickly.

"Stay away from my sister, McGarrett," Marc growled. "You've done enough for tonight."

Steve smirked. "Not nearly enough, Hawthorne."

"Steve," Mary admonished, but there was something in her brother's eyes that brought a slight smile onto her lips. He had come around. Hurrah!

Marc took another step forward. "You're done hurting her, you son of a bitch," he hissed. "She's done nothing but protect you, but you're too blind to see it and too thick to realize it even when told."

Steve's smirk turned into a smile. It was good to know Sabrina had someone as adamant at protecting her as him. Maybe together he and Hawthorne might actually curb that impulsive dive-into-dangerous-situations instinct.

"My father didn't have to tell you, she'd kill him if she knew, but I hoped you'd see reason. I was wrong. I want to wipe that smile off your face, you bastard, but I won't do it in front of her. You're not worthy of becoming a martyr."

Steve nodded. Sabrina had just changed dancing partners. Her back ramrod stiff, she was dancing a slow dance with Sebastian Hawthorne. "Okay, now let me pass."

"You're not getting near her, McGarrett."

"Marc, please," Mary whispered.

Marc shook his head. "No, I'm not letting him near her. He's done enough for tonight."

Steve got into Hawthorne's face. "We both know a grunt can't take a SEAL, but if you're that confident, go ahead. But I warn you, I'll sweep the floor with you if you try to keep me from Sabrina one moment longer. Do you understand?"

Marc's jaw dropped at the vehemence in the man's voice, the determination in his eyes. There was something else in those eyes. Something he's missed at first. He grinned. "It's good we had this chat."

"Yeah, and listen, if I ever hurt her again, I'll _let_you kick my ass," Steve replied, his eyes firmly on the woman in dark blue gliding along the dance floor in her father's arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel like dancing."

.

.

"I thought he was different," Sebastian Hawthorne said with a scowl. "I thought he deserved you, but I guess I was wrong."

Reena met his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

Sebastian frowned down at his daughter. "I don't know, the skipping after learning you're available might have given me an idea."

She shook her head. "He has all the right to hate me, Sebastian. I lied to him, I deliberately deceived him...I understand. And that's why I'm leaving."

Sebastian sighed. Love. After all, she still protected that damned idiot who couldn't see what he had if it bit him on the ass. He'd liked the guy at first sight, the look in those eyes spoke of integrity, the clasp of the hand spoke of strength, the set of the shoulders spoke of self-confidence, and the commendations over his heart screamed of bravery. And he'd disappointed him the first chance he got.

Sebastian could understand hurt, he could understand a broken heart, but how could someone not see and take the opportunity given. If the boy didn't love his daughter, fine, the least he could do was talk to her, get them both the closure they deserved. Yet he split. The bastard.

And now he was back.

He watched with grim satisfaction as his son exchanged words McGarrett at the edge of the dance floor. Pretty heated words. Good. Excellent even, judging by the look on McGarrett's face. He didn't look pleased.

Then, as Sebastian watched, McGarrett smiled, got into his son's face, seemed to growl a few words and Marc grinned. Sebastian frowned. What were they discussing? They seemed to have come to some sort of an understanding, because Marc let him go and McGarrett was on his way toward him and Sabrina.

And judging by the determined look in those blue eyes, the boy would not be deterred. No matter what. Only Sabrina could probably stop him right now, and she was completely oblivious.

She wouldn't be for long though.

"May I cut in?"

Hearing that deep, slightly raspy voice, Reena froze, looked to her right, and met Steve's serious blue eyes. He didn't look angry, he...He didn't look anything, really.

"No, you may not," Sebastian snapped. "I'm dancing with my daughter. Right, honey?"

She felt her left eye twitch at the endearment. He smiled slightly and she knew he was trying to protect her from getting hurt, but it was a little too late for that. Besides, masochistic as she might be, she wanted to dance one last dance with Steve. Tuck the memory close to her heart to treasure in the years to come.

Sebastian frowned. She wasn't truly considering dancing with the cad, was she? "Sabrina."

She looked at Steve. "Fine," she murmured neutrally.

"Sabrina!"

Reena shook her head. "It's just a dance, Sebastian."

It was his turn to experience the eye-twitch, though she couldn't be sure if it were because of the name or her decision. But he nodded, glared at Steve, and grudgingly stepped aside.

Steve ignored the older man. He had eyes only for Sabrina and the strange apprehension in her eyes.

"You call you father by his name?" he murmured.

"Sperm donor."

He chuckled. "Boy, can you hold a grudge."

She scoffed. "It's not a grudge, really. He likes to play a doting father, I like to play the resentful daughter. He's happy, I'm happy. I win-win situation."

He felt a corner of his mouth curl as he curved his right arm behind her back and she tentatively placed her left palm on his upper arm. He clasped her right hand in his left and pulled her more fully against him.

As he guided her in a half-turn, the music suddenly changed mid-tune. The already slow song became even slower, moodier. Perfect for what he had in mind.


	48. Chapter 47: Kala 'ana

"Can I tell you a story?"

Reena looked up into his eyes in surprise. She'd thought they'd simply dance—though she still wasn't sure why he'd asked her to—without speaking. And he goes and surprises her again, by talking—and not empty pleasantries either. He wanted to tell her a story.

"What kind of story?"

He paused. "A story of a princess and a warrior."

Why he wanted to tell her a Hawaiian folk story was beyond her, but what the heck. "Uhm, sure."

"Okay." Steve pulled her a little closer. "Relax, Reen," he whispered into her ear and felt her shudder. "Let me lead you."

The music coiled around them, cocooning them in sensuous magic, the guitar melody caressing, the tender female voice soothing to the senses.

Steve tucked her head under his chin, closed his eyes, and started the tale of love and heartbreak.

"Once upon a time," he murmured, "lived a brave warrior. They said he had no equal in battle, his lethality spoke of a cold, empty shell. He didn't need anyone, he didn't let emotions rule him...Until one day he fell in love with a princess."

"Typical," Reena scoffed. "It's always the woman's fault."

"Don't talk, just listen," he ordered. "This princess was famed for her extraordinary beauty and intelligence. She had never been in love, because she never let her emotions rule her."

"Smart woman."

"Shhh. The princess fell in love with the warrior and for a time they were happy."

"I sense a dramatic twist approaching," she murmured.

"What part of 'don't talk, just listen' don't you understand?" he asked.

"Sorry."

"Then one day a prince from a faraway kingdom approached the princess, demanding the crown jewels—Not a word," he admonished when she took a deep breath. "The princess, of course refused, but the prince wouldn't be deterred. The jewels were too secure to be stolen, so the evil prince decided to exploit the princess' only weakness. He threatened the warrior she loved."

Reena froze and Steve smiled.

"Keep dancing," he whispered into her ear. "Where was I? Oh, right. The evil prince threatened the brave warrior and the princess caved. She couldn't allow her beloved to die, so she severed all contact with the warrior in hopes to convince the foreign prince the warrior wasn't important to her and he'd be spared. The warrior demanded to know what happened to make his darling princess change her mind. He'd even decided to end his employment in the kingdom's army to be with her—"

Reena lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide, questions warring in them.

"—but he never got to tell her. And to make sure he was convinced she didn't love him anymore, the princess persuaded him to think someone else, a nobleman, had stolen her heart. To further ensure the warrior's safety, the princess handed over the crown jewels and the evil prince returned to his kingdom."

Steve smiled down at her. "But the princess was a warrior as well. She and her faithful guards followed the evil prince, took back the crown jewels, and destroyed the prince and his men." He looked away. "While the warrior, his heart broken, left the kingdom and decided to forget the princess and her betrayal." When he looked back at her, she was staring, her eyes sad, at the spot where her palm rested against his sleeve.

"A few years later, the princess visited another kingdom only to discover the warrior she had loved and lost was captain of the guards and had started a new life alongside another woman. The ruler of the kingdom asked the princess for an alliance against an evil king, and discovering the evil foe had been the one to truly want her crown jewels and threaten the life of the warrior all those years before, she accepted."

Reena was still staring at her hand, her mind in turmoil. How did he know everything? How could he possibly know? God, he knew. And now what? Did he hate her even more? Did he pity her? What should she do? How should she act? When would the dance end?

"The alliance struck, the warrior and the princess had to spend a lot of time together, their past and their unresolved feeling constantly hanging above their heads. She knew the warrior had another woman, he thought she'd betrayed him, convinced the nobleman he was sure had stolen her heart before, was the ruler of the kingdom the warrior now lived in."

Reena had finally had enough. She looked at him. "Steve—"

"I'm not done yet," he murmured and when she shook her head, tried to move away, he clasped her fingers tighter, holding her close. "It's almost finished, Reen. Patience."

She looked away again, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay. He was still calling her 'Reen'.

"The new woman in the warrior's life saw what was between him and the princess and decided to end the relationship, but the warrior, jealous of his ruler, let the princess believe otherwise. Then the evil king, who'd also had the warrior's parents killed, finally made his appearance, demanding the princess' jewels, threatening the warrior again. When the evil king took the princess hostage, trying to avenge his dead queen, the warrior had no choice but to kill him."

Reena met his eyes again, briefly, then looked down at the knot of his tie. The story was almost over.

"The ruler of the kingdom threw a ball to wish the departing princess a safe journey. But he also had an ulterior motive. He refused to let the princess continue deceiving the warrior, so he revealed she was in fact his sister, asking his father to reveal the entire story to the warrior in hopes the two might finally get closure."

Reena glared at Sebastian who watched her with suspiciously shiny eyes. So he'd tattled.

"But the warrior, blinded by pride, left before the princess could speak to him. An old friend tried to talk some sense into him..." He smirked. "And it worked. The warrior realized only complete truth would get both him and the princess closure. So he invited her to dance."

He was silent for so long, Reena lifted her eyes to his. He was looking at her intently, as if trying to read her mind. She went for glib. "A rather iffy ending, if you ask me."

Steve tried to discern something in those gray eyes, anything to tell him how she truly felt, but she kept her expression carefully blank. It was his turn. The last one. So he'd better make it count.

"It's an open ending. One of those 'make a choice and see how it ends' types."

She looked back down at his tie-knot. She couldn't believe she was going to ask. "What are the options?"

"Well, there's something I left out," he murmured. "You see, the warrior had been unable to forget the princess. He was still calling for her in his sleep. He was still in love with her."

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened.

Steve looked into those startled eyes and smiled softly. "She was the one. He's never stopped loving her. And so he told her, hoping she loved him, too."

Reena felt tears gather in her eyes and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. She wanted to see him clearly, read the emotions in his eyes.

"I love you, Sabrina Logan," he whispered and watched as a tear rolled down her cheek. "With all my heart. Do you still love me?"

Another tear trickled down her cheek as Reena lifted her left hand off his sleeve, placed it at the back of his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him.

Steve's heart skipped a beat as the tip of her tongue slipped between his lips. He opened his mouth a little more, curled his other arm around her, and kissed her back. He groaned softly as her other hand joined the first, her fingers tunneling into his hair. He slid his tongue against hers, retreated, sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and slowly let go, lifting his head to look at her.

Her eyes slowly opened and he smiled down at her. "Should I take that as a yes?"

She looked a little unfocused before she nodded, her eyes zeroing onto his mouth again.

"Say it," he growled.

Reena met his eyes, letting her emotions into her gaze, her famous inner wall lying in ruins. "I love you," she whimpered. "So much."

"Good." He lowered his head again, capturing her mouth in a scorching kiss that made her want to be anywhere else but in the middle of the dance floor. Preferably somewhere private. Then his tongue invaded her mouth again and she forgot everything else but the fact she was back in his arms, under the assault of his demanding mouth, with only two layers of clothing and no lies or half-truths between them.

Time ceased to exist, the crowd vanished, the music grew silent. There were just the two of them, the sound of their heartbeats and mingled breaths. The touch of his fingers on the bare skin of her back, the silky feel of his hair against her fingers, the slide of his tongue against hers, the tender sting of his teeth on her lower lip.

"I don't mean to be rude, but get a room."

With regret, Steve lifted his head, and glared at a grinning Marcus Hawthorne.

"Getting a little too hot'n'heavy for this place, bro," Mary remarked from the cocoon of Marc's arms.

"Don't listen to them," Reena whispered, playing with the hair at his nape. "They're just envious."

"Of course I am," Marc replied. "I wish I could do something like that without it getting plastered all over the news."

She poked her tongue out at him, then looked at Steve and smiled. She pulled him closer and whispered into his ear, "Take me away from here."

He grinned, kissed the back of her hand, tucked her against his side, and started toward the veranda.

Sebastian twirled Kono to a stop beside his son and Mary McGarrett—a wonderful girl with just enough chutzpah to keep Marc on his toes. He'd watched his daughter and McGarrett kiss, it had been hard to miss, and couldn't help but gloat. His little conversation with the boy before Sabrina had arrived had been the catalyst for the two to work things out.

"Where are they going?" he asked.

Marc grinned. "If you have to ask, Dad, you really need to get a life."

They watched as Steve gently kissed Sabrina on the veranda, before they both disappeared through the door.


	49. Chapter 48: Pau pū

**Author's Note:** Okay, kiss-and-make-up time. It's a bit long, but I couldn't resist. Not after 47 chapters of doing nothing _but_ resisting.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Steve."<p>

He shook his head as he helped her out of his truck. This is what he got for making her talk to get his mind off the need of having her naked against him.

His pointed "Explain" got him whole story. Including footnotes. She left nothing out. And when she was done, she started on the apologies. He could've told her they weren't necessary after the first one. If she'd only let him get a word in there. But she hasn't stopped talking ever since they've left the party.

"I'm really sorry," Reena said for the umpteenth time. "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for lying, but I would've done it again in a heartbeat if I had to. He sent me your pictures, Steve. Pictures from your camp, taken by one of your fellow SEALs. It could've been anyone, your friend, your CO. Anyone could've pulled the trigger or sent you into a trap. I couldn't take the risk." She paused, then tried again as he pushed his front door open. "Please, say something."

"Fine," he growled, pulled her inside his house, and kicked the door shut. "Fine. You're sorry, but if you even _think_of doing it again, if you try to protect me again without telling me about it, I'll wring your neck."

Reena smiled. "I could as much promise not to do it as you could wring my neck, so we're at an impasse, Commander. What do you propose—"

"Oh, shut up," he groaned, pressed her against the door and took her mouth ravenously.

Reena closed her eyes and clutched at his neck for support as he plundered her mouth. Jesus, the man could kiss. It made her dizzy. It made her want to demand more. It made her crazy.

He left her mouth, nibbling and licking a path along her jaw line to her ear and down her neck. He hooked two fingers under a beaded shoulder strap and slid it down her shoulder, kissing the spot he exposed.

Reena sighed, her eyes closed, as he repeated the process on her other shoulder. Then he drew in a harsh breath and stopped. He didn't speak and she finally opened her eyes to see what had him frozen. Has she grown another breast during the ball?

"What is it?" she asked.

"Shhh," Steve whispered, staring at her beautiful breasts. "Let me look."

She felt fire flood her cheeks. She wasn't shy, but with that look in his eyes...Well, she might be shy after all. "It's not like you haven't seen them before."

He glared briefly up at her, before returning his gaze to her chest. "I haven't seen them in a while, Reen. I need to make sure nothing's changed."

She rolled her eyes, then groaned as he cupped both breasts in his palms.

"I need to feel nothing's changed," he whispered reverently, his eyes still on the two pale globes in his hands. "I need to taste nothing's changed," he growled and lowered his head, taking one rosy nipple in his mouth.

Reena moaned, clutched his head in her hands, and pulled him closer. Damn that skilled tongue of his.

Steve lifted his head, smiled upon seeing her rapt expression. "This one tastes the same. How about the other?"

He took the other nipple in his mouth, suckling gently, curling his tongue around it, pinching it slightly between his teeth, while plucking at her other breast with his fingers. "Same taste. Good. Now, has the rest of you changed?"

"Steve," Reena breathed.

"Yes," he responded to her unuttered plea. "We'll get to that. But first, let me look."

He pulled the shoulder straps all the way down her arms, and the gown slid easily down her hips, to pool around her ankles, and he muttered a curse under his breath at his first look of her naked—but for the flimsy strap of underwear around her hips—form in years.

"You're as gorgeous as ever," he whispered and dropped to his knees in front of her. He peered up at her face, her eyes closed, her mouth forming a little 'o', as he ran his palms up her calves, thighs and over her hips. He slowly stood, his palms sliding over her rib cage and breasts. He kissed both nipples, before moving up again to nibble at her collarbone and throat, before finally reclaiming her mouth. He groaned as she responded with a kiss that fried almost every single nerve ending in his body.

His suit was slowly becoming a nuisance, the trousers too tight around the fly, the shirt and tie too constricting, but he knew that if he took them off, this would be over too soon. He planned on savoring what was left of the evening and night. And that didn't entail taking her against his door like a starved animal. Though he was feeling rather like one at the moment.

Reena had no such qualms. She wanted him here and now, quick, hard, and wild as she knew he could be. She wanted to feel him against her, skin to skin, feel him inside her, feel the bite of his fingers on her hips as he thrust into her, feel the sting of his teeth on the tendons in her neck. God, she wanted him.

She pushed the jacket off his shoulders, wrestled with him to get it off completely, and threw it haphazardly somewhere behind him. Then, shuddering at the feel of his fingers playing with her nipples and his tongue dancing with hers, she rid him of his tie, and pulled his shirt out of his pants. She ran her fingers up his naked lower back, and back down, hooking them in his waistband. She brought them around in front, and was struggling with his belt buckle, when he snapped back, caught her wrists, and pulled her hands away.

"No, Reen." Steve shook his head, trying to clear his vision, calm down his breathing. "Protection."

"I don't need it," she mumbled, attempted to pull her hands out of his grip. "I'm on the Pill and I haven't been with anyone since you."

Steve, still lucid enough to distinguish different nuances of her voice, sought any kind of censure toward him in her voice, but there was none.

"Anyone, huh?" he smirked.

She shrugged. "If you don't count my fingers and little vibrating Steve in my drawer."

He arched an eyebrow. "You named your vibrator?"

"What of it? I have a mean imagination. Sometimes I could convince myself you were there. Only you don't vibrate." She grinned, pulled her wrists free, and tackled his belt again. "And little Steve had nothing on the 'real' little Steve."

He captured her wrists again, and pinned them above her head. "Stop it, Sabrina. I won't fuck you against the door."

She made a moue of disappointment.

"I have a perfectly good bed upstairs."

She grinned, and arched her back in invitation, thrusting her breasts closer to him. "Then what are we still doing down here?"

"An excellent question," he replied, released her wrists, hooked an arm around her upper back, the other under her knees, and lifted her effortlessly. "Hold on."

She twisted, kicked her feet to get rid of the shoes.

"No, leave them on," he growled. "How can you walk in those?"

"As well as you can do it with a hard on."

"Don't remind me," he said as he took the stairs. "It's all your fault."

She giggled. "Why is that?"

"The dress. The shoes. The entire package. You should be illegal."

She slowly licked his throat and shrieked as he feigned dropping her.

Steve grinned, shouldered his bedroom door open, carried her in, and dropped her sideways onto his bed. She looked decadent, hair mussed, eyes slightly glazed, mouth swollen from his kisses, jaw and neck reddened by his whiskers, naked breasts plump, nipples inviting, the indent of her waist begging for his touch, the little scrap of a thong clamoring to be removed, the strong, lean legs perfect for clutching at his waist...And those shoes. Those shoes made him even harder.

"You _should_be illegal."

Reena lifted herself onto her elbows. "You know what should be illegal? You making me wait."

She licked her lips, rolled over, and slowly—to make him suffer—went to her elbows and knees, turned even slower, before straightening. Still kneeling on the bed, she tucked her hair behind her ears, and grinned at the dazed look in his eyes. Mission accomplished. She shuffled closer to him on her knees and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"You're terribly overdressed, Steve," she murmured, kissing and licking every inch of skin she exposed, until she arrived at his waistband. She smiled as his breath hitched slightly in his throat. Two could play the game of touching and not delivering. She tucked the tip of her tongue into his waistband, licked twice, then slowly, leisurely licked up his torso. She lingered on his abs, nibbled at his pecs, played with his nipples, until he was literally panting. Then up again, toward his throat, where she nibbled and licked some more, before moving up to his ear, where she took his lobe between her teeth, laved it with her tongue, while she slowly removed his shirt.

She straightened again, ran first her eyes, then her fingers down his shoulders, over his tattoos, down his biceps, back up to his shoulders. She smiled, cupped his face in her hands, rubbed her breasts against his chest, and kissed him slowly, leisurely. She ran the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, once, twice. He parted his lips and she slipped her tongue inside, slowly exploring his mouth, brushing along his teeth, tickling the roof of his mouth, finally curling it around his own tongue, sliding it alongside it, savoring his taste as the kiss turned from slow to ravenous, from gentle to possessive and his arms tightened like bands around her.

He lifted her off the bed and she quickly circled his waist with her legs, clutching him to her, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, groin to groin. The feel of his erection through his pants was bliss and torture at the same time.

She released his mouth. "Steve," she panted. "Enough. Make love to me."

His breathing was as ragged as hers. "I thought you'd never ask," he replied, and dropped her back onto the bed. He hooked his thumbs into her thong, pulled it down her legs, leaving it hooked against one sandal. "Jesus," he groaned as she brought her feet up onto the mattress, leaving her exposed to him. "You're making me crazy."

"That makes two of us," she whispered, her eyes firmly on the bulge at the front of his pants. "Get those off and make me see fireworks."

Steve grinned, toed off his shoes and socks, shucked his pants and underwear in one move, and pulled a condom out of his bedside drawer. "My next physical is next month," he explained as he sheathed himself. "Better safe than sorry."

He looked into her eyes, saw tears there, and was beside her in a heartbeat, stretching alongside her body. "What is it, baby?"

Reena shook her head, wiped at her eyes. He was so utterly sweet, protecting her...Just as she'd always protect him. "I love you," she whispered, and brushed the tips of her fingers down his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered back, kissed the tip of her nose. "I always loved you." He kissed her mouth. "And I always will." And he moved down her body, elbowed her legs open and settled between her thighs. "Now, to make sure you taste the same everywhere..."

And Reena closed her eyes as he kissed the top of her mound. She threw her head back and tunneled her fingers into his hair as he leisurely licked her slit.

"I don't need that much foreplay," she gasped as he tucked the tip of his tongue inside her and tasted. "Steve," she moaned as he licked harder, deeper. "Steve, God, Steve." The last word ended in a cry of ecstasy as he plunged two fingers inside her and suckled her clit into his mouth. Her hips rose up from the mattress as she ground herself against his mouth, riding the waves of pleasure while he soothed her with his lips, tongue, and fingers.

Steve waited until her orgasm subsided, until only slight spasms still shook her, before lifting his head, and moving up her body. Her eyes were languid, her smile that of a sexy, sated woman as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, cupped her hips in his hands, lifted her lower body off the bed, and slid inside her in one smooth, long thrust. He groaned and closed his eyes at the feel of her tightening around him like a fist.

Reena moaned, arched her back, circled his flanks with her legs, and lifted her hand. His was there in a heartbeat, holding her steady, twining his fingers with hers. He caught her other hand, and brought both, fingers intertwined, to lie beside her head as he leaned over her. Reena clutched his hands, holding on for dear life as he started moving, his hips thrusting in a steady, hard rhythm, that made stars appear at the back of her eyelids in no time.

Feeling her clench even more around him, he thrust deep...And stopped. "Look at me," he ordered harshly.

Reena slowly opened her eyes, meeting his blazing blue gaze and her heart skipped a beat.

"Don't close your eyes," he warned as he retreated, thrust back. "Keep looking at me." Retreat, thrust. "I want to see your eyes." Retreat, thrust. "I want to see your eyes as you come." Retreat, thrust. "Don't close your eyes." Retreat, thrust. "Know who's inside you."

"I know," she whispered, her gaze never wavering despite the pressure building inside her, despite the natural instinct clamoring for her to close her eyes and just _feel_.

"Know who's making you come."

"I know," she moaned.

"I love you, Sabrina," he groaned. Retreated, thrust once more. "Say it."

"I love you."

Retreat. "Say my name."

"Steve," she moaned, clenched around him. "I love you, Steve."

He angled his hips. "Now, come." And he thrust one last time, ground against her, and felt her explode. She clenched like an iron fist around him, pulsing, spasming, and he followed her into oblivion on a shout, collapsed on top of her, closed his eyes, and tucked his face in the crook of her neck.

"_Aloha wau iā 'oe a mau loa_," he whispered against her throat and closed his eyes. He was finally home.

Reena hummed in contentment. Then frowned a little. She could swear she'd heard that phrase before. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

"I will love you forever."

She smiled. "Sounds nice."

He couldn't agree more. "Hold that thought," he whispered, regretfully left the haven of her body, and went into the bathroom. Condom taken care of, he returned to find her waiting for him under the sheet, dazzling smile in place, and her eyes full of emotion.

He slipped under the sheet, tucked her against his side, curved an arm under his head. "Speaking of forever, you're not still planning on leaving tomorrow, are you?"

She peered up at him, placed her palm over his heart. "Well..."

"You don't work for DHS anymore," he reminded her.

"Who told?"

Steve grinned. "You're unemployed, Reen."

"I'm resilient."

He nodded. "True. But I have a perfect job for you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yup." He winked down at her, kissed her on the forehead. "You could become a permanent Five-0." She made a noncommittal sound and his heart skipped a beat. "I mean, you think outside the box, you're amazing behind a computer, you can kick or shoot your way out of any situation...And the guys would love to have you on the team."

"Right. The guys." She drummed her fingers on his chest. "What about you? Would you love to have me on the team?"

"I'd love to have you anywhere," he replied instantly, making her chuckle.

"I'm serious, Steve. You can't go postal for every little scratch."

He flinched as every single worst-case scenario flashed through his mind. "Not _every_scratch, but you can't hold it against me if I go postal when you risk your life. I'm protective. Sue me."

"So am I."

He grunted his agreement, held her a little closer. "But we can make it work, Reen. We just have to work as a team. Talk to each other."

"If I accept, will I have to call you 'boss'?" she asked with a smile.

He rolled her over, rose above her, balancing on his forearms. "Only if you want to make me hard," he replied, demonstrating what her words did to him.

"Interesting concept."

"So, what do you say?"

She arched beneath him like a cat, licked her lips, stretched her arm toward the bedside table, brought it back, and showed him the condom she held. "I just might need a little more convincing."

Steve grinned. "I'm game. We have the entire weekend to convince you."

She frowned. "Do you have enough condoms?"

He shrugged. "There's a drugstore at the end of the street," he said nonchalantly and muffled her laughter with his mouth.


	50. Epilogue

Reena slowly opened her eyes, blinked at the bright sunlight, then stretched, and smiled at the sound of the waves crashing against the beach. She turned, the greeting of a good morning dying on her lips. She was alone, only a faint indent in the pillow beside her still showed where Steve had lain.

She sat up, looked around the room, spotted his discarded T-shirt at the foot of the bed, and pulled it on, before venturing in search of her lover.

She found him in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing only a pair of sweatpants riding low on his lean hips. She smiled at his wide back, tiptoeing closer, but, of course, the man heard her and turned just as she reached him.

Steve grinned at her slightly miffed expression, curved an arm around her waist, lifted her off the floor, and captured her lips in a quick, open-mouthed kiss. "Good morning, beautiful."

She caught her balance by placing her palms onto his shoulders. "Good morning, handsome. You taste good. What are you making?"

"Blueberry pancakes."

Her favorite. God, she loved him. "Pity, I'm not hungry." At least not for pancakes.

"Well, you're going to eat anyway." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You'll need the strength."

She giggled. "You're so bad."

"Bad to the bone, baby." He grinned, dropped her lightly onto a chair, and placed a serving of blueberry pancakes in front of her. "Milk or coffee? I'd go with coffee myself, wouldn't want you to fall asleep in the middle of something."

"Cocoa?" She smiled sweetly up at him.

"I think I have some. Let me check." He rummaged in his cupboard, pulled out a packet. "Cocoa coming right up."

With Sabrina happily munching on her pancakes and slurping her cocoa, Steve sat on the chair opposite her, placed an elbow on the table, leaned his chin onto his palm, and watched her.

She looked up, saw the goofy little smile on his face, and swallowed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like—" She wiggled her fork in front of his face. "—that."

"I just like watching you."

"Hmm."

"You're cute stuffing your face like that."

She rolled her eyes, took a swallow of cocoa. "The sooner I finish, the sooner you can go back to convincing me about becoming a part of your task force."

He was serious in an instant. "True. So stop talking and eat. I'm not getting any younger."

She deliberately slowed, taking her sweet time with each morsel, grinned as he started fidgeting in his chair. "These are really good pancakes. You _have_ to give me the recipe."

"I'll make them each morning for the rest of your life, just eat," he groaned and growled at the sound of the doorbell. "Don't move," he ordered and went into the living room.

But of course she wouldn't listen. He glared at her. "I told you not to move. You're not dressed."

Reena looked down her body. "I'm perfectly covered."

He rolled his eyes, praying for help, but no one seemed to listen. So he pulled her behind him and opened the door.

"Good morning." The delivery man didn't even blink at Steve's state of undress. "I'm looking for a—" He checked his pad. "Sabrina Logan."

Reena waltzed out from behind Steve. "That's me."

This time the delivery man did blink. After doing a double-take. And Steve ground his teeth.

"I have a delivery for you, Ms. Logan. If you could just sign here."

She scrawled her signature on the electronic pad—how had he known where to find her?—and watched as the delivery man placed her computed case and the large duffel bag, she'd meticulously packed the previous day, in front of her.

"Here you go." He gave her a envelope. "And this. Have a nice day."

As Steve pulled her bags inside and closed the door, she opened the envelope. And laughed.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Read for yourself."

_I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED YOUR BAG. YOU CAN'T VERY WELL WALK AROUND IN A BALL GOWN OR MCGARRETT'S SHIRT, CAN YOU? I'LL MAKE SURE YOUR TICKET'S REFUNDED, BUT UNFORTUNATELY THE HOUSE'S ALREADY BEEN LEASED. I'M SURE YOU WON'T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS FINDING ACCOMMODATION. :) HE HAS YOUR BADGE, WELCOME BACK TO THE TASK FORCE, AND THE BIKE WILL BE WAITING AT HQ ON MONDAY. CONSIDER IT AN EARLY CHRISTMAS PRESENT._

_LOVE, MARC_

_P.S. TELL MCGARRETT NOT TO BE STUPID. ACTUALLY, THAT GOES FOR YOU, TOO.  
><em>

Steve laughed, pulled her to him, and kissed her. "Your brother's a pain, but God love him."

She smiled up at him, circled his neck with her arms. "He _is_ a pain isn't he? Sending me my clothes, when I like yours so much better."

"You do look good in my shirts," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

She closed her eyes, sighed. "But I can't wear them to work, now, can I?"

He lifted his head, searched her eyes. "Does that mean you're staying?"

She pulled his hair. "We've already established the fact I'm staying."

"Does that mean you'll come work on the task force, then?"

She pretended to think, nibbled on her lower lip. "Well, I just might need a little more convincing on that front." She smiled invitingly up at him.

"Gotcha." He lifted her, hefted her over his shoulder and ran upstairs. "More convincing coming up."

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> And we've finally arrived at the end of this (too) long story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to all of you who stuck by it until the very end and thanks to those who read only one chapter. A big thank you to the reviewers, you always brightened my day.

I hope we'll meet again, someday, over a new story.

Thank you all, once more, and happy reading.


End file.
